Three Simple Rules For Internet Commenters

Most of the comments I get on my blog and writing on other sites are very nice and I love them. But a very small percentage are just impossibly ridiculous and annoying. I think if we all followed these rules, everyone would be better off and I could cut my Prozac dose in half.

1. Don’t Brag

It’s cool that you taught your non hearing impaired kid sign language (just for kicks), but please, for the love of Christ, Muhammed, and any Moon Diety I’ve forgotten, keep it to yourself. Oh, your son was born knowing how to do long division? Super dupes, but shhhhhh, grown-ups are trying to complain over here.

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I’m sure this commenter is a great person. In fact, she appears to treat adults much better than I do. I happen to treat children better than I do adults: I don’t glare at them when they cut me off in traffic and when they scream at me for a hot dog I don’t secretly pee on their coat.

2. Don’t Diagnose

This trend is maddening. It’s like people are stalking blogs looking for opportunities to tell parents that their kids are autistic (which is a totally cool thing to be, by the way). Oh, and gluten is apparently worse than rabies and model airplane glue combined.

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Cut it out with your Holiday Inn Express Pediatric advice. I use Google to diagnose things, so I already know my children both have Hoof and Mouth disease. I know you think you’re helping somehow, but really what you’re doing is forcing me to enter a vortex of fear-driven anger that results in spending $150 to get my water tested for lead (no lead, of course). Should I just send you the bill?

3. Don’t Take Everything Seriously.

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This was in response to a post about all the ridiculous things you’ll do when you become a parent, like let someone watch you crap while they stare blankly eating a popsicle, or cut up a grape, or almost agree to cut up a raisin. I’m sure you meant well, GOODDOC1 (who was apparently beat to the name by GOODDOC), but  I’ve never cut up a grape. I was kidding! Actually, I wasn’t–I’ve totally cut up a grape, but…ugh, see why I get so upset? I’m sure my response was met with utter confusion. At least, I hope it was. EYE OF THE PANTHER!

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IT’S A JOKE (I mean, it’s not, but it is). I’m sorry you thought it was gross, Ms. WHATseriously. I’m sure you’ve never blamed a fart on your child. Tip: it works.

For some reason I honestly can’t seem to comprehend why parents — and yes, it seems to apply particularly to parents — have an unquenchable desire to take everything personally, as if I’m a sociologist behind a one-way mirror observing their family and taking notes for a book.

So Internet, here’s an idea for some of you (because look, most people are amazing, but that’s boring): I’m not talking about you unless you agree with me. Cool?

Ok, I’m off to post nasty comments on Gawker. I’m kidding! Did I need to tell you that?

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Reid says:

My father told my older sister that grape skins were poisonous to little girls. She peeled grapes for years before she figured out he was only joking.

I kind of think you’re a kind of comedic genius. Just ‘kind of’ bc I’m not into sappily praising strangers. With that said, I check your blog every few days to see if I can enjoy another rambly, random, and insightfully side splitting post. Many of us feel that us and our families have our weird – not -for – public- viewing moments. You share all yours, and make us all feel normal. Ahhhh… like an antacid for stress. Thanks Jason, and rock on…

Jason Good says:

You rock on too… Bad Company? Foreigner? BTO? What are we listening to?