Whenever I read the comments attached to one of my articles, I think to myself “Stop reading the comments attached to your article, dummy!”
Also, “You know this won’t end well sister.”
And I would be wise to listen to my inner warning bell. But I pretty much always read the comments anyway.
I read them because, like several of my children, I’m lacking in the impulse control department.
I read them because sometimes there are comments from people with nutty families like mine, who write that my words resonate with their experience. How can I pass up hearing that?
I read them because I’m a curious little monkey.
Sometimes it’s like watching a train wreck. But I can’t look away. I already know that haters gonna hate and trolls live in the interwebs and there is so much meanness in the world, it’s ridiculous.
Trolls and mean people aside, there is always that one comment that comes from left field and is practically nonsensical in it’s cluelessness. Those are actually the ones I like to read aloud to the hubs.
I wrote a silly little fluffy piece about how the last days of summer are like living in a fire swamp.
It contained an abundance of Princess Bride
allusions. Someone commented, asking if Utah has fire swamps in it’s geography. ?????
The comments section got a little raucous following my article on baby name trends. Creative baby-namers got defensive and traditionalists went on the attack. It was a hot spanky mess.
The better comments are those left by people who follow the link from an article to my blog. They are real and thoughtful and decidedly anti-troll. They pop up in my email notifications like buttered popcorn in the red melamine bowl at my side while I watch Downton “Days of our Lives” Abbey with Dutch.
Please feel free to comment. Or to back away slowly from the comment section. It’s your call.