I can get quite abusive when I’m behind the wheel of my car. I know I’m not alone. You are, too. You’re speeding along on the highway and a car cuts right in front of you and out of your mouth comes “You dickwad! Motherfuckingsonuvabitch!” – and you flip him the finger. Once he’s out of sight.
Contrast that to heading for the checkout stand with your basket at the grocery store and you are cut off by a basket full of 3 months worth of groceries and no “excuse me.” How does “You dickwad! Motherfuckingsonuvabitch!” sound now?
Tuesday night I came close to quitting. This blog, that is. I thought I’d done a sufficient job of tucking the events of the last several days neatly away and was ready to move on, over and above it. By the time I turned out my light to try to get some sleep after the freeroll, it was clearly evident this was not the case.
Throughout the previous few days, I’d been monitoring the flash fires of responses, commentaries, opinions and flames that have swept through our little corner of the blogiverse regarding the pirating incident – and was overwhelmed by it. I have heros who can never be thanked enough.
And there are villains who will face their karmic returns someday. From the get-go those people chose to respond with spite, disrespect, malice and vulgarity. When I snapped, I spewed some vitriol as well. I did my best, though, to regain my composure and get back to the land of the grownups.
But, as I watched this drama play out, I experienced a kaleidoscope of emotions that spun me into a weary state of confusion and despondency by the time I was busted out of the Poker Prof’s freeroll. Part of it stemmed from a feeling of responsibility and fear that I’d started something that I now had no control over. Much of it, however, was a growing despair at witnessing what appeared to be a spiraling descent to unseemly behavior.
The insults posted on my blog were benign nips from a toothless puppy. They stung, though – not the words themselves, but the intent which had been emboldened by the anonymity the internet affords. They crossed the line in the ugliest of ways with the comment to Felicia.
I can see it over and over and over again and I will perpetually be saddened by our capacity to hurt each other – and for the most trivial of reasons, or no reason at all. And I’m no innocent here, either, color me guilty, guilty, guilty.
The straw was Jas123, who targeted me for some chat abuse during the Tuesday freeroll. I don’t know why – he may have been the guy I eliminated on a suckout when I over-defended my blind, but for whatever reason, I was a thorn in his side. Pauly put up a strong defense on my behalf, and I thank him, but even that served to push me further down.
Why? I couldn’t stomach any more incivility. We have thumped our chests and hurled dung at our enemies and we have hurled a bit of it at each other, too. It’s ugly. We have come very close to sticking the pig’s head on the spike and organizing the hunt for Ralph.
The internet allows us the convenience of masking ourselves with virtual anonymity – we can express ourselves without having to look into the eyes of the people we’re talking to. We can be public in a very private way, making it easy to launch insults, ridicule, and vulgarities at each other.
Witness a bad play at the poker table? Call her a moron. Or a whore. Disagree with someone? Call him an idiot. A jackass.
I’m not advocating censorship. I am requesting consideration. I am suggesting discourse, debate, conversation. Think before you type in that chat box or comment space. If all you have is a hurtful insult at your fingertips, considering sitting on your hands until you have something a little more intelligent to say.
I have the great fortune to be a part of something pretty spectacular and I don’t want to see it get eaten away by pettiness. It’s up to each of us to hold this fragile community of irregulars carefully in our hands – to keep it thriving with the exchange of thought, ideas, silliness, sentiment, truth, tall tales, debauchery, consolation, celebrations and, most importantly, friendship.
After hitting the depths Tuesday night and a flip of the card away from folding my hand and walking away, I woke up Wednesday, a little worse for wear, but with a little brighter perspective. I read a lot of blogs (work is suffering, folks…) and I realized I would not be going anywhere. I may be rethinking what I do here, though. And then, maybe not.
At any rate, I’m going to stick around a little while longer. I have an affair with G-Rob to heat up; a mission to set CJ strait re: Bo on American Idol; commiseration with Sean, after bad beat #643; a son to finish raising; a mentor to help me sharpen my game…poker to write about…. VEGAS!…sweating Bob, Russ and now “Piratelife” at the WSOP…. Oh, and NOT least of all, a quest to discover just how big that rooster of Otis’ is….
