sweasel.com

Sweasel, I don’t say much ’cause by the time I get it typed, somebody’s already said it a lot better than I can. So why take the time. And who cares what I think anyways? Besides me, that is.

Not to mention that there’s a veritable smorgasbord of interesting, fun stuff on the intertubes, even before ya gets to the pron. So much to see, so little time.

Who has time to comment much?

Probably the same reason I get 160 or so readers a day and maybe 1 comment every 2 posts on average. Why I can’t really say. The reason I don’t comment much is that I only comment when something prompts a response or thought from me. Usually your posts make me grin and nod, or have a good time reading, but I don’t feel the need to add anything.

It’s also frustrating because people tend to comment more if you have several comments already. In other words, it’s like the old “you can’t get this job because you lack experience” conundrum. How do you get them to begin with? Seed them like a street performer with various sock puppets? I don’t really know.

I do know, however, that you and I would have been doing a lot better had we started, say, 2 years ago. Now the market is glutted, there’s 80 million blogs out there by last estimate, and that’s a lot of background noise to be heard against.

It’s hard to speak up in a crowd of strangers.

Ok – I have been thinking really hard about this one. The other day I heard an awesome folk singer and I thought this would be really good to share with weasel. I read recently that he liked the folk music. I started to write soemthing about it and then thought to myself this is not my blog this is weasel’s blog and it is totally OT. So I have been saving it for the appropriate moment. (Which will be soon, because I have now peeked his natural weasel curiousity.)

It seems that most people who comment on this blog are smart, and funny, and pretty if you’re a Rabbit and that can be terribly intimidating to some. Just get over it people. If you say something stupid and get hit with McGoo’s hammer you can always change your nic. Only weasel will know and he won’t tell anyone.

PIMF – piqued his curiousity

I give up. I can’t spell for ****.

Dawn sez:

It’s hard to speak up in a crowd of strangers.

Dang, I allus figgered strangers as more fun since I likely wouldn’t see ’em again.

And o’ course, Weasel’s blog is fair game as he’s the artistic type, and bein’ an engineer type, it’s quite likely that my comments won’t add any coherency anyway.

And now with this many posts I look like a total stalker.

Dawn sez:

And now with this many posts I look like a total stalker.

Having had some rather unfortunate experience with a stalker, I must say you don’t have me terribly worried. Yet.

/Of course, I’m not the Weasel either.

Best:

Mike Proctor’s “How To Stop A Stalker.”

In an attempt to get around the Weasel’s spam filter, I’ll recommend some of the other books that show up on that Amazon page: Meloy’s and Mullen’s are very good; the rest are trash, except possibly Glass’. I don’t think I have read hers.

The National Crime Victim’s Center has an excellent reference as well, that is a downloadable PDF. Coincindentally published in a small Florida town where we would go to hide from our stalker.

“Coincindentally?”

Good grief. Mrs. Fleshman, my fourth grade teacher, would be apalled.

It’s funny – for me, I’ve found that my on-line persona matches my real life public persona. I don’t talk much at parties (which means I don’t get invited to many parties) or gatherings in general. While I regularly read lots of blogs, I rarely comment on most of them (sweasel.com being the rare exception). My generally anonymous state doesn’t overcome my innate reticence it seems. Another part of it is that regularly updated and interesting blogs accumulate a central core of regular commenters that form an “insiders” community where I’m often uneasy about intruding my voice into their conversations. Here, I was in on the ground floor – hell, subflooring actually! I still have a bookmark to Worpdress. So there ya go – insight into the mind of a true Lurker.

Heh. There you have it… you’ve heard from the 5% and the 1% but not a 95% in sight.

My on-line persona matches my real personality too. Except for that partying post about Ireland. My husband (who reads everything I write cuz he lurks here too) asked me when did we party? I said we went to a pub with friends (and with our kids). Glad I finally got that off my chest.
Anyway, I don’t even have a nic. Dawn is my real name. Terribly original, I know.

Just got here. What’d I miss?

Geez! Dawn has gone prolific! Wooot!

I am presently liking this new development a very great deal.

But it looks like he who snoozed – losed. Everyone said all the good stuff. Rats.

Oops! I’ve just goaded my sometime-commenters into fast talking. Sorry — I didn’t mean you guys! You’re doing fine.

I was curious about the Calvin Coolidges out there; the ones who never comment anywhere. I don’t get what they’re getting out of the internet experience. Although I did read for two years before my first Usenet post, but I had a reason for that.

And my online self and real self are much alike, too. Be very afraid.

Likewise, I’m the same in type or flesh, pretty much. Maybe slightly stupider in the flesh.

Hey! All you Lurkers! If you comment, folks will sometimes RESPOND to you. They will consider your WORDS. They will listen to what you THINK! They will see that you can’t spell any better than the rest of us! And they will NOT KNOW who you really are, so you can duck back into anonymity any time you like.

…and you can make that comment that is in the back of your mind or on the tip of your tongue but you have too much breeding and good taste to voice! Pooter!

Commenting is neat!

The internet is like perpetual Hallowe’en: you can dress up like a fairy princess and throw toilet paper all over the neighbors’ maples. And get away with it.

Plus, delicious candy!

Yeah, on the internet, no one knows you’re a dog as the famous New Yorker cartoon goes

link title

You can say anything on the net. I do. I say anything I can think of, unless McGoo thinks of it first. Then I say it after he said it, but I say it.

See? But perhaps my loquaciousness inhibits those who would actually have something to say if I weren’t crowding their electrons so closely. I’ll try to watch that.

Yeah, Lokki’s right. You see, by commenting as ‘Uncle Badger’ people just assume I’m a human being, using a silly name.

It works every time.

I guess commenters are like kids in classrooms. There are always the keen ones, waving their hands in the air every time a question’s asked.

Then there are the jokers at the back who won’t STFU.

I wonder if that means the rest are staring out of the window, wondering what’s for lunch?

Lokki & Uncle B – words of wisdom.

One of you always beats me to the good lines – or brings knowledge and experience to the ‘fest that is beyond me.

C’mon lurkers. Just one of ya’ — speak! My ears are cocked in anticipatory delight. I’m fully caffeinated and sugar’ed and ready to rock! And the laundry’s done, too!

Ooo! I know that one…a ham sammich! Our regular photographer was busy, so I got drafted to take pictures of some scientists getting awards. I had to stand in the back of the room for the most interminably boring presentation on hazardous material handling and disposal. I almost passed out from standing so long being droned at, but they were all scientists so they were totally in to it. Raising their hands and asking questions and shit. Stupid scientists.

Then the awards came. I assumed they were service awards for X years served, but they were patents! I don’t know if the patent office does this or we do, but they got cool Lexan placques laser-etched with their patent name and number and “this guy right here is Smartypants McSmarterson, so shove off, Weasel.”

Boo. I’ll never get a patent. Stupid science.

But I did get a delicious ham and cheese sandwich. And a pickle. I scavenged their buffet table. I wanted a cookie, but I was having a stacking problem by then.

There’s a metaphor in there, and I Don’t Like It.

I dunno, McGoo. It looks like my strategy of bullying people into talking to me is a failure.

I’m amazed.

I dunno, it looks like everyone who reads this blog has commented so far.

I just didn’t want to be left out.

Oh yeah, Pupster’s on vacation.

I was curious about the Calvin Coolidges out there; the ones who never comment anywhere. I don’t get what they’re getting out of the internet experience. Although I did read for two years before my first Usenet post, but I had a reason for that.

What was your reason?

Damn. And I took the trouble to bathe this morning.

I used to water ski a lot. We (the w-s gang) were fairly aggressive and sometimes ran afoul of fishermen – who didn’t like boat wakes near shore, where the skiing is smooth and, um, we ski’ed. They’d yell, “Asshole!!”

It always tickled me no end to shout back at the top of my lungs – in my most sincerely grateful voice, “No thanks! Got one!”

They never had a comeback.

Just thought I’d mention that.

“Your momma” works in almost every situation.

MMMMMMMMPH! That’s me, holding my hand over mymouth
fingers, so I don’t say type anything,and take valuable space from others with something important to say)

I just kinda tossed that out to see if maybe a lurker would be enticed to put fingers to keyboard. If only to call me an asshole.

Yo’ momma works, too. But saying “got one” – as in “Thanks so very much for the offer but I’m fully equipped and in no need,” or “Thanks for the offer but there’s already one on board” simply left them nowhere to go. We’d as often as not raise a laugh from someone on shore.

But it only works if they say asshole.

Say, did y’all hear about the mexican/soul food restaurant that opened a while back?

Nacho Momma.

They will see that you can’t spell any better than the rest of us!

I got a box of spelling bee trophies in the attic says you are WRONG, my friend.

Oops. My bad.

Hey! Lurkers! No one here except Mrs. Peel will see that your spelling is as atrocious as everyone elses’ except Mrs. Peel’s. And she won’t care ’cause her science-fu is so powerful she’ll know what you mean even if you don’t! So go ahead – give us your best typo!

I was just trying to give ’em confidence, Mrs. Peel!

I know, I was just messin’ with you.

Attention Lurkers: I will not correct your spelling or grammar (unless you frequently correct other people’s spelling and grammar). And if I do, you can flame me! C’mon, it’s fun!

I guess I know how lurkers think coz my brother, my dad, my husband and my daughter all three surf various blogs on a regular basis but NEVER leave comments! And believe me, these people are some of the most talkative in my life!
When I ask them why, they say they are not comfortable talking to absolute strangers. I have no problem talking to strangers…I invariably strike up a conversation in a train or wherever.