Speaking truth? or just acting like a dillhole?

It should have been a routine thread. Someone who’s not generally happy with the way they look is pleased by a flattering picture, so she posts it on a webforum; other forumites, of course, compliment her. Then this guy shows up.

So, if instead of drowning myself in a sea of hypocrisy and pretending a rabid badger tore my eyes out, I state my true opinion about the picture posted in the OP, will I get warned/banned for insults?

Yay for frankness.

.Xaos (ooo, how edgy) is told that he certainly might get a warning for threadcapping, as no useful social purpose is served by chiming in and telling someone 5,000 miles away that you think they’re ugly. He responds:

If you expose yourself on a forum, which, much like the first places named in such a way – the Roman forums – is a public location, prepare to be judged and confronted by opinions that may not be in agreement with your own views.

My response is motivated by a need for balance – I would most likely have not voiced anything, as probably a lot of forumites stumbling upon this thread, but seeing the amount of people “doing their job”, pushed me to post a small reminder that facts should be named as they are, and that Chinese-style brainwashing should be revealed for what it is.

See? The only options are proclaiming to the world that said poster is an ugly fat chick (I presume this is his opinion) or becoming one of the brainwashed sheeple, man. I tried to formulate a response to this, but RPGNet poster Cericonversion beat me to the punch. I’m posting hir (poster is trans, not sure if M->F or F->M transsexual) response below.

What you’re doing implies that anything that might ever be conceivably appropriate in any context anywhere online must be introduced here, in this thread, right now, or it’s failing to be…something. Honest? Complete?

But in fact, any impulse you may feel to be cruel to someone seeking – and finding – some encouragement right now isn’t actually more relevant than figures on world bismuth production or the German edition of John Scalzi’s novel Old Man’s War. This is not a thread set up to invite or welcome whatever truthtelling you think it is you’re doing, let alone your profoundly ridiculous notion of shared enthusiasm as mind control.

You are in the wrong thread for the attitude you want to cop to.

For any RPGNet readers who are interested, the thread is here.

Not a great summer

There is precisely one way I’m having a good summer: it’s so cool here that are electric bill will be unusually small. I’m not getting nearly enough warm sunshine and pretty greenery. Partly that’s because the weather hasn’t been great, but partly it’s allergies. I have allergies every spring and summer and this year it’s making my eyes water pretty much all the time. Meds keep the irritation mostly under control, but it’s annoying to see this beautiful green landscape through the window and barely be able to get out and enjoy Vermont’s beauty.

When the lights go down

I wonder if others have this problem at the theatre. No matter how confident I am in the performers’ abilities, no matter how much I love the play, no matter how strong my anticipation for the experience, I always feel awkward during the first couple of minutes of a play. I’m distracted by the artificiality of the props, but mostly it’s adjusting to stage acting instead of everyday conversation. I watched Deathtrap last night at Lost Nation Theatre in Montpelier. It was a fine performance all around of a play that’s always fun, but still . . . that first couple of minutes felt strained. Do others feel this awkwardness when the lights go down?

A poem for the evening

Hope you enjoy.

Love After Love
by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

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