(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
So after I posted yesterday, I went out looking for a job, because I just saw how much money wasn’t in my bank account. I took the bus downtown, because it’s impossible to park and it’s just a twenty-minute ride. (My loathing of public transit is an entirely different post, which I will not get into here.)
I was away from the computer and had some time to kill so I was listening to Aisha Tyler‘s podcast Girl on Guy, even though I said I wasn’t going to add any more podcasts because I’m a month behind on the ones I already have. I don’t mean I haven’t listened to last month’s episodes. I mean I would have to listen to podcasts for a month straight to catch up. But I remember Aisha from back in the day when she was on that clip show which shall not be named, because it was obvious even then that she was born with the funny gene.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Anyway, her most recent guest was Felicia Day, queen of the Internet. Near the end of the podcast they talked about recent bad behaviour of certain people on the Internet, and their personal encounters with trolls. And yes, this is all leading somewhere.
By this time it was getting late, and I was on the bus back home. I was listening to my iPod because people on the bus all seem to want to talk really loudly, and you have to drown them out somehow. It was literally seconds after the podcast had ended that the bus stopped in a wi-fi hotspot and my iPod chirped to let me know I had new mail. I quickly checked before we pulled away to see what was there and I noticed there was a comment on this blog. Being a narcissist good blogger, i had to check to see what it said, and I got the following message:
“How would you like to die?”
Which, when taken completely out of context, and having listened for the last hour about the negative side of social media and trolls, kind of freaked me out. Keep in mind I had totally forgotten what I had written in the post as I had done it late the night before. I knew it was something about Christmas shopping and beating up little old ladies, and figured I had unintentionally upset some fundamentalist Christian or something.
But then it got weirder, because I saw who the comment was from, and that she had previously commented, so this “death threat” had automatically gone through moderation and was already up on the site.
Honestly, my first thought was, “Yes! Someone actually cared enough about my blog to threaten my life. Finally, I am a critical success.” But then I realized that probably wasn’t a healthy attitude. So I wondered maybe she got hacked or I was missing something. When I got home and checked, I figured out that she was just responding to the sardonic tag line I had put on the post: “Also, kill me now.” Mystery solved. And this is why I set the comments to automatically close after two weeks. I can’t remember what I said yesterday.
Now when you ask most people that question they either say something to the effect of “old age” or “live fast and leave a good-looking corpse”. But I don’t want to die, ever. There simply is no good way to go. Dying in your sleep is just a euphemism so you don’t feel to bad that granny was too weak to even grab her chest when her heart stopped. Dying from a disease or organ failure is never a good way to go. As for ending it early, I am too much a coward to jump off anything or cut myself. No, I am going to keep living until someone makes me an android body that I can upload my consciousness into. I figure that Google is about twenty years away from a beta. I will miss the cupcakes though.
Also, if you cared at all, you could leave a nasty comment below. It would really make my day.
Crazed recluse and sociophobe who has taken up writing after failing at everything else. Send pizza.
Verbatim Gibberish 
Doing my part to make your day. Funny stuff. It started off kinda like a lame thriller (starring Colin Farrell, where he’s riding a bus, and gets cryptic messages on his iPod. I’m thinking it would be called “Podcast!”) but then it ended up like a sci fi dystopia, where we’re all trapped in robot bodies and can’t eat cupcakes, which are kept on a plate in front of us all day (I’m thinking that film would be called “The Year 3001: Baked Goods.”)
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That may be the single best comment in the history of blogging. Take a bow.
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Oh god. We can’t eat cupcakes. I think this would be more of a horror story then. I love your film title by the way, it’s perfect.
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I get death threats on the bus every day from angry paranoid schizophrenics. But it’s OK, because I know they’re really not talking to me exactly. Or maybe they are. I’ve not yet died, is what I’m saying.
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If you’re riding the bus everyday, are you sure you’re not in hell already?
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I love the bus.
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I’m guessing that where live you don’t have to wait half an hour in forty below weather for a bus that smells of sweat, vomit and stale Mcdonalds’ french fries.
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No no. That’s my bus. Long waits. Vomit and french fries. And crazy people with collections of plastic shopping bags, sitting across three seats and speaking in tongues. Are you saying you’d rather be sitting in your car listening to NPR when you could have this great bus action?
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Well, when you put it like that…
Bus riding can be great for people watching but getting caught singing Katrina and the Waves at the top of your voice while waiting at a red light has its appeal, too.
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Why nasty, eh? Why nasty.
I’ll leave you a so-so comment. And I want that android body too, damn it!
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I don’t want to be surrounded by sycophants who tell me how great I am. At least not all the time. If everyone agrees with you, you’re living in a bubble.
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Oh, absolutely. But this can be said in various ways.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a believer in tough love and lots a few friends because of my directness. If I think you’ll crap, I’ll tell you 😉
See, now I feel guilty.
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Don’t feel bad. Honestly I was just being ironic because I’m passive-aggressive that way. You do whatever makes you happy. By the way spellcheck is not always your friend either.
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Haha 😉 damn.
This is hilarious. I’d feel bad if my error wasn’t funny as hell.
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To coin a phrase, if you can’t laugh at yourself, there’s always someone who’ll do it for you.
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Enter: Sean Sandulak.
You’re hired!
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You should try living as a Virtual Presence, a ‘la Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory. That way you could just stay in bed and eat cupcakes all day while your VP braves the bus.
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If you’ve ever seen Bruce Willis in Surrogates, then you know that does not end well. On the other hand, I have secretly always wanted to be R2-D2.
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HAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I read your post completely forgetting our interactions in your last post and started cracking up the moment I realized that was MY very comment. I’m still snickering about it. I was merely trying to help a fellow blogger out by answering your request 😉 And yes, the lack of cupcakes would truly be saddening.
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At least I’m not the only one who forgets what they wrote the day before.
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Same wavelength, I tell ya. It’s ‘cuz I didn’t eat my daily cupcake.
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I would not want to live in a world without cake.
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I concur.
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