There’s a 99.10% chance that you had nothing to do with yesterday’s blog post, X.  You can disagree with it, this is America after all. You can choose not to read my blog, if it really makes you crazy I highly recommend you don’t read it. Life’s short dude, free yourself the angst.

But I’m really certain that it had nothing to do with you. In fact, nothing in my life has anything to do with you. When things in my life are a direct result of things or people, I say so. Now, they’re usually more of a positive nature because when I’m not ranting I’m a pretty happy kid.

But you? Nope. So you can save the late night texts calling me an insecure, fat, alcoholic bitch because you thought I was calling you out. I wasn’t. In fact, you’re so far off my radar that other than last night’s little fun it wouldn’t even occur to me to call you out. Another fact, I’ve seen you at events around town and if anything I’ve done or written about in the past has made you so angry that you need to send such vitriol over the airwaves, you kinda could have come up to me and had a face to face conversation about it.

So, in conclusion, I own my words. I’ve written blogs that were unpopular. I’ve been called a bully over my blogs. That makes me shake my head but whatev. I often wonder if people even read them or read one line and react. It’s the rage these days so maybe.

But congratulations, you’ve finally got your own blog post. Screaming at me that women need to support each other and then call me names is an interesting way to go about life but hey, to each his own. Go live your life, a good one I hope. I actually really do. It would seem there are some anger issues deep (or not so deep) down but what do I know. I’m only a meathead in a gym. Feel the burn.

No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out? Pour on; I will endure.
In such a night as this? O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.

King Lear, Shakespeare

Ingratitude is the essence of vileness.

Immanuel Kant