Last Thursday, I wrote two pieces that both mocked “Cousin Oliver,” a blogger of some renown (Lord knows why). One of them generated the most responses to any piece I’ve ever written here, and quite possibly a contender for most comments here on Wizbang.
Then, Friday morning, I was stuck. I had several ideas for pieces, but just couldn’t bring myself to write them. Instead, I wanted to go over to Cousin Oliver’s site and get into a few more fights there.
That’s when I realized something: guys like Cousin Oliver are like crack cocaine. Yeah, bashing him around was easy and fun and a quick rush, but after it left me “spoiled” for the more satisfying, more healthy thrill of writing my own, original pieces.
So, instead of discussing the latest development in gay marriage (still support it, but think the California court decision is a bad one all around), or the Catholic Church Cardinal who thinks people shouldn’t read The Da Vinci Code (might not publish that one here — guaranteed to alienate (all right, royally piss off) a huge chunk of Wizbang’s readership), instead I was tearing through Cousin Oliver’s site, trying to find yet more and more outrageously wrong pieces to fight over. And while doing that, I was neglecting my obligations to this site.
Neglecting, hell. I was utterly blowing them off.
My mother used to tell me, “never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig.” And trying to engage in constructive dialogue with Cousin Oliver and the Oliverettes is even more useless.
So I’m listening to my mother. I’m tired of struggling with those pigs. Let them wallow in the muck of their own delusionment and continue to foul their own nests.
But maybe I’m a bit too harsh. Calling Cousin Oliver “crack” is a bit strong. He’s more like junk food — filling and good for a quick fix, but ultimately unhealthy for you and it ruins your taste for more healthy food. Oliver is the Twinkie of the blogosphere, and I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.
Now, if I ever find a whacko leftist blogger who’s the online equivalent of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, I’m in deep trouble…
(Update: I left a few items unresolved with those two Cousin Oliver postings. Nobody won the Oliver Willis Resignation Watch contest, because nobody picked Joe Lieberman. And I don’t have the willpower to wade through all the entries in the Rename the Whackos contest (mustn’t backslide), so everyone can consider themselves winners of that one.)
(OK, OK, maybe a quick perusal…)
(Damn, some good ones. Wildly Hateful and Indignant about Nearly Everything; the Green Cheese Belfry; Spring-Loaded Anti-Americans; Festering Boils of Indignation; Knights of the Ku Klux Klueless; Mooreons; The “Saint Pancake” Wing: Blind on ideology, flat on message, dead on relevance; the American Nutzi Party (complete with pretzel symbol), amd so on, and on, and on…)
But I am sorely tempted by “Gollums. Because “The presidency is ours, preciouss, yess it is, and we wants it, yess we does. Nasty little republicanses can’t stop us, and we’ll get back the House and the Senate, too, yes we will, precious…”)
(And comments on those threads are now closed.)