Saturday, December 23, 2017

The 2017 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

The 2017 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter
Narrated by: Khali the new kitten
Written by: Moby because he's the eldest and would beat my ass if I didn't let him
Stupid ideas and smart ass remarks by: inferior cats;
Poe, Fathead, Lily, Splave, Shocky, Mama, Petunia & Beepers
& Mutts (Mom made me include them)
Quincy, Igor & Yeti

Hi everybody! I'm Khali, the newest member of the Dillon clan. The dogs aren't happy that I have the honor of writing this years letter. But once they see what a good job I do, they'll forget all about being mad at me. If they don't...oh well, they can suck my balls. If I had balls. Oh that wasn't very nice of me was it? I'll burn in Hell later.
Ain't I friggin cute?

A little about myself first. Mom took me in the first day I was to start cooking at a Chinese restaurant. I'm a Cancer...I like to grab feet while hiding under the coffee table.  I enjoy helping mom and dad wash dishes aaaand....I'm addicted to discovering the effect of negative ions while they replicate invarious dark matter in relationship to universal quarks. It's a hobby.

For this years letter, we wanted to do something a little different. We wanted to tell you about our Christmas traditions or a certain Christmas memory we had before being sold into slavery. Moby will go first.

Moby: I'll never forget that one Christmas....we didn't have a lot of money to buy every cat and kitten in our household a gift, so we took the time to stuff different colored yarn inside the crevices of the old lady that took care of us. We did this AFTER she croaked so don't get all bent out of shape snowflake. After we said our sacred feline prayer of, "Yub yub, thanks for the grub," we munched the shit out of her, which, contrary to popular belief, people do NOT taste like chicken. We each ingested a bit of string and waited. After a few days we started pooping out the string and that's when the excitement began. We'd rush to figure out who pooped out the same color! Well...after we washed it off. And we'd exchange gifts with the kitten who had the same color string....errr...wait...or was that the year we had to fight to the death and then eat the kitten that pooped out the same colored string?  Dammit, there were some bad winters when we were growing up.

This is good to know....

Khali: Ah...okay. Ummmm...Poe, it's your turn.

Poe: When I was a wee kitten, we knew and sang only one Christmas song, it was, I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas. It was a family favorite.

Khali: I love that song too!

Poe: Unfortunately, you aren't pure enough to sing that song with me. You're a filthy spotted half breed.

Khali: What???

Poe:  It's a known fact, 'white is right!' Heil Hitler's cat, Commandant Pretzel Bunz!

Follows the preaching of Commandant Pretzel Buns

Khali: Jesus strawberry eating Christ, what the hell???  I didn't know you were a racist bastard!

Quincy: Ummm...what do you think his costume was for Halloween? He wore a sheet and carried a torch?

Khali: I thought he was a ghost and he didn't have a flashlight!

Igor: O...M...G. You are one stupid pussy.
Igor's not impressed with 'stupid pussies'

Khali: AM NOT!

Igor: Are too.

Yeti: It's okay if you're stupid. They call me names too. Kinda like when the other reindeer  bullied Rudolph. Wanna eat some chalk?

Khali: Ah... HELL NO!  Will someone else please tell us about your non-racist tradition!!!

Fathead: At the first big snow, my family would all go outside and frolic. It was magical. year, I took my special Christmas present outside. It was a Red Rider BB gun....

Khali: Oh no! Did you shoot your eye out?  Is that how you fucked up your eye?
Tragic diabeetus accident

Fathead: What the hell are you talking about?  I didn't shoot my eye out. For your information, I lost my eye in a freak two-car diabeetus accident. No, I took my Red Rider BB gun out and took out a gang of bikers that tried to take over our territory. That sent out the message far and wide that you never mess with the Cats of Anarchy! We feasted on their carcasses for weeks. We took their old ladies as new breeders for the club too. Hell, you could be one of my great-great-great-great-great grand kittens. Wanna join the club? I gotta shank you first.

Khali: MOMMMM!! "Screams and runs under the couch."

Quincy: Okay, back to the dogs running the show. Lily, you're up next. Tell em about your old traditions.

Lily: I lost my only kitten around this time a year ago....

Quincy: Ah shit here we go...

Lily: I told him to hold my paw when he crossed the street but he thought he was a big boy and refused...
Lily's Severed Head

Quincy: That's quite enough Lily...

Lily: I didn't even know what happened...

Quincy: Stop doing this to yourself...

Lily: And then....and then...."sniffle, sniffle"...I never saw it coming. And just like that, it hit him!

Quincy: Ah fuck.
Quincy's 'Ah fuck' face

Lily: Exactly! What hit him was the fucking notion that he would become a Trump supporter!

Quincy: Look, it's over. Ya just gotta move on...

Lily: He's found a crunchy Cheeto under the couch cushions and knitted suits out of scraps of fabric and belly button lint for it. He calls it Donald!

Quincy:  Do any of you damn cats have some nip for this bitch????

Lily: He dead to me. DEAD!

Quincy: This idea you had for the Christmas letter really sucks Khali! Hey, you...Oreo brothers. Do you have a happy holiday story?


Splave: Why yes we do. Thanks  for asking. Since we are Spanish....

Quincy: are not Spanish.

Splave: Really? Okay...then since we're Jewish....

Quincy:'re not Jewish either.

Shocky: But...we wear yarmulkes on our heads.
Shocky sans alien communication hat

Quincy: Those are tin foil pie pans from when you were trying to contact aliens.

Shocky: Soooo we're not Jewish?

Quincy: *sigh* No.

Splave: Well, then we got nothin.

Quincy: Of course not....Mama, Beepers, Petunia--you're next.

Petunia: Our Mama here taught us how to make special cakes made with almond paste, milk and shrapnel. We called them...bombs.

Petunia & Mama exhausted from making cake bombs

Beepers refused a photo. This was the best we could do.

Quincy: mean they ARE the bomb?

Petunia: Uhhhh...sure.

Beepers: Mama taught us how to sneak into homes by greasing our fur with chunky Vaseline and Cool Whip, setting us up for easy access down chimneys so we could stuff the stockings of the bad little infidels with cakes... and turds.

Mama hates infidels...but loves ham

Quincy: What the hell is she doing? She sounds like a turkey drag queen in heat.

Beepers: She is singing the song of our people. And she's cheering the fact that we blew up the neighbor's garbage can.

Quincy: And what did that prove?

Fathead disapproves

Petunia: It proves....stuff.  Oh by the way...I hope you're not attached to what's in your underwear drawer.

Khali: I don't think I wanna live here anymore.
Khali, wishing she didn't live here

Quincy: Sorry about your shitty luck kitten. You're screwed like the rest of us. Yeti, please share something less....murdery

Yeti: Oh yeah! Well, last year Mom and Dad got us the Roomba. It was the bestest present ever. I would ride on it and play bumper cars into walls and furniture. That one time we fell down the steps wasn't that fun but... I loved it.

Igor: Yeah, you loved it until...tell everyone what happened.

Yeti: Do I have to?
A clean shaven Poe here for no reason

Igor: Most definitely!

Yeti: *sigh* I loved it, until one day while I was riding the Roomba; pretending it was my mighty steed and I was a fierce knight going into battle, I charged my Roomba into a boulder filled swamp.

Quincy: Aaaaand...

Yeti: They weren't boulders.
Floating Yeti Sketti head

Quincy: And what were they?

Yeti: *mumbling*


Yeti: They were gobs... of... creamy...warm poop.

Quincy: And what happened to that creamy, warm poop.

Yeti:  It got squished under the wheels....

Igor:  Aaaaand...

Yeti: It smeared poop all over the living room floor.

Quincy:  And why was Dad pissed?

Yeti: The Roomba stopped working.

Igor: And why did the Roomba stop working??

Yeti:  It died.
Petunia wanting to take responsibility for Roomba death

Quincy:  Mmmm hummm...explain.

Yeti: It... hung itself.

Igor: Yes, it hung itself. And what did the note say?

Yeti: *pulling out the note*  This isn't the first time. The little bastard is a shit loving freak. Please bury me next to the toaster. If you only knew what he jammed in there..."

Poop fiend
Khali: Ewwwww....

Quincy: Sick fucker, ain't he? Igor, ya have a tradition ya wanna share or a memory you need to confess to the police?

Igor: Not with my parole officer present.

His parole officer is not present

Quincy: Good, because I no longer care.

Khali: What about yours Quincy? Tell us your Christmas tradition.

Quincy: Well, there's the tradition where we haze the brand new family member.

Khali: You do??

Quincy: Yep, we hang the poor fuck from the chandelier and toss regurgitated hairballs and litter encrusted turds at them after a vigorous dousing of canned cheese whiz. (See Xmas Letter 2013)
Moby donated the litter encrusted turds

Igor: It's all good. You don't have balls so we'll just aim at your head.

Khali: MOOOOOOM!!!


                                          MERRY WHATEVER BITCHES!!

Beepers has been photographed. Holy shit! It's a Christmas miracle!

Saturday, December 16, 2017

My book, Arithmophobia for Kindle

Yep, it's finally ready.  Well the Kindle edition is.  The be on the market very soon.  Check it out and give it a review.  Authors love reviews!

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Thursday, November 16, 2017

My Horror Tree Interview with THE Drew Stepek

Drew is the author or Knuckle Supper, Knuckle Balled and Godless.  He's a quirky bugger who loves ass exploding chili and so much more. Check this talent out!

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Clients/Customers at Your Job: The Next Best Thing to Death

We've ALL been a customer. From checking out at the grocery store, to paying bills, to haggling over a back alley handy; we have all been in the position of needing to deal with someone for wares or services.

Personally, I try to be polite, open and understanding even if I'm not happy about my bill, service etc. Getting angry and nasty has never really gotten me anywhere so I try to be the nicest customer I can be, and hope that being nice might get me SOMEWHERE.

Me before a client sucks my soul out.

Now...many of us WORK in the customer service industry or we deal with the general public in some fashion. (I will not tell you where I work because I don't need the prank calls or heavy breathing. well...maybe the heavy breathing.) Many customers/clients I work with are easy and pleasant which makes my job easy and pleasant.

Back to the flip side of that same pancake...there are those clients/customers, who aren't cool and groovy. When I see them stroll into my place of business, I wish I could eat a bullet right in front of them. Why?  Because they are miserable human beings. Dollars to donuts their own mothers don't even like them! And who could blame them? They were probably little bastards who chewed their way out of the womb.

You know who you are.

And if you ARE one of those people that are frigging miserable or think that those in customer service are there to make your every wish come true because, and I quote, "the customer is always right," I'm here to tell you...YOU'RE NOT! Wrong is wrong and annoying is annoying and stupid is stupid and being a dick is just that--Being. A. Dick.

So-- IF this blog entry gets your panties all crammed up your ass, it's not because I'm "sensitive" or a "snowflake" it's're dick.

Okay, I WILL say there are some peeps that work in customer service that suck at their job and shouldn't be working with the public. I completely get that. COMPLETELY.

But this isn't what this particular blog is about.

It's about shitty customers.

And if you're offended by that-- something tells me you ARE one.

So enjoy this blog entry or don't...I'm sorry. I can't help you there.

What do I look like? Someone in customer service?

Clients/Customers at Your Job: The Next Best Thing to Death
Can you relate?

1. I love it when a customer saunters in at the very cusp of closing and I know goddamn well they are UNEMPLOYED. Just what the hell have they been doing all day? Oh yeah, NOTHING.

2. When the office recognizes a name on the caller ID, we play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock to decide whose turn it is to speak with the soul sucker.

3. I fight off the urge to answer the phone with, "What the hell do you want this time?"

4. While on the phone with one of the 'said hellish phone calls,' I flip off the person multiple times and point a menacing finger gun at my head.

5. "What the fuck is wrong with people?" is the office slogan.

6. I hate when people ask to use our bathroom. Why should I let them poop in my office?  I see what they do to the bathrooms at friggin Wally World! They REFUSE to sit on the seat so they 'hover' because they don't want their cheeks kissing the shitter, and in doing so- they spackle the back of the toilet with a thick coating of shatted out fast food, corn chips and gum their mother told them not to swallow when they were 10. Dude, YOU'RE the reason people want to hover! You...YOU!!!!  Sooo...hell no you can't use the office bathroom.

I often tell them we don't have one. I pull out a KFC bucket I keep under my desk and tell them they can keep it afterwards if they really have to go.

7. I don't know about you- but I can't always remember my clients real names. But when my co-worker mentions they saw 'Shuck n Jive' or 'The Arm' or the 'Uni-boobed Seat Farter' at the store, I know exactly who they're talking about. And we giggle.

8. The email from the irate customer that just yelled and berated me for the last 15 minutes is  Oh yeah, I can feel the love.

9. When I answer the phone:
     Me:  "State of WalFart, this is Ruschelle how may I help you?"
             Them:  "Is this State of Walfart? Who is this?" 
     Me: *sigh* "This is a recording. Please try again when you pull your head out of your sphincter."

10. I avoid asking how anyone is because I know they'll tell me.
"Oh honey, my doctor gave me these soothing creams for a heat related venomous pustule "down there". 
ME- Jesus, not DOWN THERE! Australia has enough creatures 'down there' that'll kill ya.
(And they continue as if they didn't hear me or I just don't exist)
"And speaking of pustules, did you know my husband died? Yep, 30 years ago today. I went to visit him but I think he's cheating on me with that slutty bitch in the grave next to him. Her husband's not dead yet so she's after mine!"
Where the hell did I put that gun?

11. How do people not smell themselves? Please explain this 'lack of scent to your own stench' phenomenon. And don't attempt to make me feel bad about the elderly. Because, I'm sorry, they have been around for a long time and they KNOW that crevices need a proper douching and a slathering of pit stick which needs applied daily! And don't get me started on the odoriferous pong of piss and fecal matter. Change your clothes every day if you have such issues! No one wants to smell you. NO ONE. Not even my dog and he rolls in dead things.

12. It's always a good day when I'm done with a phone call and the caller hangs up on me without saying 'good-bye' or 'get bent' or anything. It's called manners dipshit, get some! I have feelings too. Okay, not many but come on!

13. Nothing makes me feel warm and fuzzy than after a long phone conversation where the customer has just blamed me for World War 2, shooting JFK and the raging price of provolone cheese and yet- I could barely understand his ranting because he sounded like he shoved a whole bag of Red Man chewing tobacco in his pie hole. And before you say anything, "yes, I do know what Red Man chewing tobacco sounds like."
It sounds like I'm getting blamed for WWII, shooting President Kennedy before I was even born and the price of delicious provolone cheese, thanks for asking!

Praying for sweet death...

14. I love when a customer calls and bitches out me and my mother (sorry mom) but comes in a week later with a fake ass smile because they want their yearly "freebie." Really? You come all the way up to my office for a freebie because you are too damn CHEAP to buy one at the store? Do you want my 1/2 eaten lunch and the old beat up tampon I keep in my purse too because it's FREE? Yeah, here. I'll just hand them over.

15. I don't know about you, but it's always a morale booster when a customer threatens to talk to my superior to get me fired-- for doing my job. --I'm sorry, but is that some sort of threat? For the love of all that is holy, PLEASE figure out a way to release me from dealing with whiny, entitled, loud mouth people that are NEVER WRONG. In short,you mean I can't lick your ass anymore for a pay check?  Well, Huzzah!

16. When a customer comes in with their sick kid or they're sick as hell themselves, I think- Really? Thanks Typhoid Mary. This hand sanitizer on my desk is only going to do so much and for reasons I'm not allowed to discuss, I can no longer wear the full-body condom anymore. There's no need for you to be here in the office. Do your crap online; it's called THE INTERNET and it's not just for porn.
Since my full bodied condom is at the cleaners, here's what I wear when I want to feel pretty.

If you don't find this amusing I can bet you have never worked in customer service.
 You're a lucky bastard. 
Always remember, it's never too late to be a good customer. Because, you don't know who might be a blog writer willing to wield her abilities to pen smack on your dumbass.


Friday, November 3, 2017

The Horror Tree Interview with THE James Dorr

Here's the Horror Tree author interview with THE James Dorr.

He's such a cool dude!  Read up chillins!

Horror Tree Interview with THE William Cook

Why Stuart has my byline I have no clue. LOL's all good.

Here's my interview with the one and only William Cook.  Bad ass author and sexual ghost whisperer.  Enjoy!!

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

2012 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter....

“10 Reasons You’re Not Getting A ‘Critter-Written’ Dillon Christmas Letter in 2012"

As Explained by; Ozzy, Tazzy, Quincy & the Cats; Sass, Bunson, Moby, Church, Poe, Lil B, Fathead, Spot, Petunia & Beepers

10.  Because of the shitty economy, Santa signed up for unemployment, ate two of his reindeer and pimped out most of his vertically enhanced elves (take a minute to think about that last one).  So there will be no Christmas Cheer spread to anyone, not even to smug bastards like yourself who feel entitled to Christmas Cheer.   

  9.   We sent you Christmas letters 3 years in a row.  Go back and read one of them.

  8.   We really don’t like you. 

  7.   We found out some of you don’t read our letters.  And on that note, see reason number 8.

  6.   Most people’s Christmas letters are boring.  Our letters are quirky, fun and entertaining as all hell.  We decided it was best not to make yours look bad.  There’s a thoughtful gift.  Merry Christmas.

  5.    Because this letter will make your ass look fat.  So will all the Christmas cookies and shit you're gonna shove in your gluttonous pie-hole.  We’re trying to save you precious calories so your ass won’t look AS fat.  Hey, we can only do so much. 

  4.    Because Mom & Dad won’t let us near the kitchen knives anymore. This statement has nothing to do with why you’re not getting a Christmas letter.  We’re just really pissed about not being allowed to stab shit.  Killjoys.

3.      Because we’re too busy doing drugs.  Writing Christmas letters takes up too much time from couching, shooting up and eating shit out of the garbage.  DUH!!!

2.      Nothing fun or exciting happened this year and I’m sure if it did, you really wouldn’t give two-shits.  If you are “intimate” friends/family, you already know about all the unexciting stuff we did this year,(because you were probably a part of it) & we wouldn’t have to try to sum up a year in a stoopid-ass Christmas letter that you won’t read, because as we already stated, you don’t give two-shits!

1.     Jesus told us not to.  Why he’s always cleaning out our gutters and shoveling our sidewalks and mowing our bushes is beyond our furry little heads?  Who are we to argue with our Lord and Gardner?  And who knew Jesus had a beautiful German accent? 

Well, Happy Holiday’s Ya Bastards!

The Dillon Clan

Friday, May 5, 2017

Conversations with my Husband......

We all have those conversations with our spouses that we can't believe we're having.  Here's a smattering of such conversations with my hubby. *sigh*

    Me: Why does your side of the couch smell like butt?
    Him: I don't know.
 (sniffs around a bit and finds the offending stench from one of the critters
    Me: Oh wait, it's dog or cat puke.
    Him: Where'd that come from?
    Me: Really?

    Me: Hey you know that; charcoal filter, jar of mustard, new pack of batteries, gallon of milk,  screwdriver, stove, hat, cigarette lighter, bottle of hot sauce, shirt you said was stolen...missing... etc....well I found it.
    Him: Where was it? 
    Me: Where it usually is.
    Him: Well, I couldn't find it. You must have moved it.
    Me: Yes....yes I must have moved give me room to put your dead body.

    Him: What are you listening to? Turn that off. Your music sucks.
    Me: Why is it the music you listen to is fantastic but mine sucks?
    Him: Because it does.
    Me: Well that explains everything. *Eye roll*

    Me: What do you want for dinner? 
    Him: I don't care. 
    Me: Okay, how about pasta?
    Him: Nah.
    Me: So what do you want?
    Him: Ehh...whatever. Just not pasta.
    Me: Fine, how about pizza.
    Him: I'm not in the mood for pizza.
    Me: How about I strangle you in your sleep?

    Him: When you went to the store you got my Jazz apples, right?
    Me: Ummm, yeah? (They didn't have any. So I bought Honeycrisps and ripped off the stickers.)
    Him: They don't look like my apples?
    Me: Well, they are. (When did he start to notice things?)
    Him: Where's the sticker?
    Me: *sigh*  Dammit Ed, they didn't have any! Just eat those apples.
    Him: Why didn't you go to the other store to get them? You know I only like Jazz apples.
            SOMETHING NEW!
    Him: had to get me one thing and you screwed it up.
                                ****** DAYS LATER******
    Him: You know, those apples you bought are pretty good.
    Me: I'm going to throw them at you and I'll make it hurt.

    Me: You know the shower is leaking again.
    Him: It doesn't leak for me.
    Me: I guess you're fucking special.
    Him: You're right the shower is leaking again.
    Me: See, I told you it was leaking.
    Him: You must have broke it.
    Me: Yeah, I'm a real monster when I turn the knobs on and off!

     Me: How about we go and get a drink somewhere?
     Him: Why would we do that?
     Me: I don't know. I thought we could just do something different.
     Him:'s Wednesday. And we're watching TV.
     Me: (Giving him a stupid look) We always watch TV.
     Him: *SILENCE* (watching TV and can't multi-task)
     Me: Helllooooo...
     Him: Dazed and Confused is on.
     Me: It has ended the same damn way all 300 times you've watched it!
     Him: *SILENCE*
     Me: So I guess we're not going anywhere?
     Him: What? What do you want? Dazed and Confused is on.
     Me: Shall I slit my wrist or yours?

    Me: I see you ate toast in the kitchen. Are you going to clean up the crumbs on the counter?
    Him: Yeah. I always clean up my mess.
    Me: You do? Since when?
    Him: Always.
    Me: You ate toast at noon and now it's 4.
    Him: So what?
    Me:  I just cleaned it up.
    Him: I was going to get it.
    Me: Sure you were.

    Him: If you ever go crazy I'm going to chain you up in the basement.
    Me: Okay. Can I at least have a bed to sleep on?
    Him: I guess.
    Me: How about a TV?
    Him: You're pushing it but fine.
    Me: This is sounding better and better!
    Him: I'll put the stove down there too so you can still cook for me.
    Me: I still have to cook for you when I go crazy? I don't remember taking those vows.

The happy couple....


Tuesday, March 14, 2017

How to Handle Shitty Comments from Others on your Blog/Writing.

Middle Finger Man is disappointed in YOU!

People suck.

Yep, I said it.

People. Suck.

Now, let me backpedal a little; not all people suck...all the time. Come on, we ALL suck a little. We can't help ourselves. As humans our genes give us lips...which create suction and in turn causes us to say really sucky things to each other.

And as a writer, I have had my ass handed to me by people who hate my blog posts, stories and apparently my face.  Damn my face!

Case in point...

"Thanks for being an annoying c**t for no reason."

This sweet little love note was sent to me from a stranger veiled behind a computer screen via the comments section of a social platform.

So what did I do to deserve this adorable pet name from a stranger?

Did I send an obnoxious game request over and over....and over.

Did I send a chain letter email that would bring death and destruction to them if they didn't forward it?

Did I send them a Trojan and not the glow-in-the-dark, little rubber kind?

No, it was worse.

Much worse.

I wrote a blog entry and posted the 'said entry' on a social media site which shall remain nameless. Yeah, I'm talking to you Reddit!!!

Alright, not completely nameless.

Yes, I know 'blogger beware' but I did it anyway. I'm kinda a rebel.

The blog post was a satirical look at Black Friday shopping which put my head on the chopping block.
As a fiction writer, I did what most fiction writers do; I begin with the slightest fart of  fact and with some twisting, corrupting and outright lies I create a gale of bullshit.

But apparently, my humor did not sit well with one particular female.

It pissed her off.

And you know what?

I'm glad.

So just where did I get my impenetrable, yet stylish armor?

Actually, we all have that...attire. But we need to dig it out of the back of the closet and make it one of our 'go-to' pieces. Donning it, will prepare ourselves for the ever changing seasons of our readers. And by season, I mean...well...I'm certain you understand the metaphor, you're a writer!

So here's how to make those shitty comments feel a little less shitty.

1. Don't react to posts as soon as they appear on your blog/email/comment section of your story.
    You'll be taking their bait if you do and honestly, that's what they want. They're needling you for some sort of altercation. They want you to lose your shit. Instead, mull it over. Let it roll around the ole' brain pan. Think of all the rude, obscenities and come-backs you could possibly zing at them. Write them down. Get all your ire out on paper. Get it ALL out.
    But don't publish it! Be cool. Don't become a shark reacting to chum. It'll get bloody pretty quickly and that's when the other sharks come sniffin around....

2. Now, after a few minutes, hours, days, weeks- and your calm, sometimes NO reply is the best reply. Is it worth it to get into an online argument in front of...well...the world? Do you want a potential "fan" or publisher to watch your fight get messy and lose respect for you before they even get to know you and your craft? Why give the asshat anymore ammunition. Let their cringe inducing comment stand by itself. The stinky fromage will stand, as it should, alone.

3. But if you can't help yourself and you MUST defend your own honor, keep your response short and sweet. Slather on the charm and thank them for taking the time to read your offering. Nothing says,  "I'm not as big an asshole as you," as a post dripping in sweetness. Watch so you don't get diabetes though. You need to sound sincere and not like a snotty bitch. A little goes a long way.

4. Think of what your idol would say if they got the same response.
    You DO realize your idols have heard it all? They get their fair share of accolades but they are also subject to trolls and haters. They are in the spotlight and are under a microscope. If they can continue doing what they do with all the negativity and backlash they receive, so should you.
    There's an old saying, which is probably dating me but, who gives a shit, "Don't let the bastards get you down." Keep this nugget in the back of your skull or up your tight ass. See, I'm already preparing you for the seething sarcasm that you didn't ask for. You're welcome.

5. Be happy your work pinched a nerve resulting in a shitty comment.
    Yep, you pissed someone off. That means reading it evoked a visceral reaction. Sweet. So that
    being said....

Why is she so critical? Just love me, man!

6. Not everyone is going to like your work. And that's okay.
    You are not going to please every one.  And why would you want to?  If you write to please everyone you're not being honest with yourself as a writer. Our kind thrives on controversy!

7. Are any of the damning comments constructive?
    Take time to think about what the person has to say. Could it HELP your writing? If the answer is 'YES' thank them for their input and taking the time to read your work. No one likes criticism, it stings; BUT if it's constructive, give the devil their five bucks. Writers need to grow and sometimes we have those growth spurts through criticism.

8. Learn from this offense. Meaning, before you decide to comment on someone elses blog or story think to yourself, how would I handle this remark if it was written about MY content? I'm sure you've heard the saying, "if you don't have anything nice to say....then shut the fuck up?" Wiser words were never spoken. If you have a critique or constructive comment, always give the good with the bad and a solution to the bad. In other words, don't be a douchnozzle.

9. If all else fails; drink, smoke and have sex with strangers in bus stations because writers need their damn egos stroked. So take up that vice you've been toying with and go balls out. Then get back to work on your writing. You'll have some great stories to tell...and maybe a case of the Clap.
   But there's cream for that.

Soooo what of my own advice did I take when I received my own shitty comment?

Well, I calmed down and waited around an hour to answer. Since calling me a c**t isn't really constructive criticism (and it's something I already know, and embrace) I decided to send a simple reply.

And that reply was "LOL." 

I didn't feel it was worth a pissing contest. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she related ALL TOO WELL to my blog entry and it 'undid' all the progress she made in therapy. Or... maybe she's just a miserable bitch whose mommy didn't love her enough.
Hey, whatever- she read my blog entry and she hated it.  YAY ME!

Oh and what was her response back?


She spider-crawled, ala Exorcist-style, off to berate and shit all over another writer's blog post. 

And how do I know that? 

Because I just do.
Okay...I stalked her a little.
Don't judge me.

To conclude: write what you love and love what you write and most importantly- don't let the bastards get you down.

Because no matter how obscure, famous or infamous you are or become- there will always be bastards.

You just need to learn how to deal with them.

Word to your mother... who is ugly and dresses you funny.

Work on that impenetrable lizard skin baby!

My mom and me being c**ts. She actually likes my writing!

Fake News from a Friend

Bigfoot self portrait The President’s dead. That’s what the media proclaims. But there isn’t a body. Rumor has it- he was as...