(or, I Have Seen the Future and it's Not a Pretty Sight)
Reader, you may have wondered more than once what a mature, serious blogger like Pavlov's Cat, given to bittersweet feminist analysis and eggheaded discussions of mixed metaphor, iambic pentameter and so on, is doing with a saturated-musk-pink blog swarming with cute kitties and twee toons.
The answer, Reader, is that I had a bloody good look around the blogosphere before I dipped my toe in it (mixed metaphor alert, oops, too late) and was forcibly struck by the fact that blogging polarises the population in curious if unsurprising ways. Non-bloggers do know deep down in the murky recesses of their subconsciouses that the human world is divided with crystalline clarity along two intersecting axes -- men and women, and wingnuts and moonbats -- but it is only we bloggers who get our noses rubbed in this unsavoury fact on a daily basis.
Male wingnuts in their early 20s, of the kind to be found in their millions slavering over at the feet of T*m Bl**r and singled out for pre-emptive ticking-off by Twisty (see final paragraph of 'Notes for First-Time Vistors ...' section), would not -- if I may be allowed a particularly unpleasant mixed metaphor and cliche to boot -- touch a woman's blog with a barge pole except to spray, in either one way or the other.
This is because they fundamentally hate and fear women (and animals as well): hence the pink and the kittens, whose function is akin to that of Baygon surface spray or one of those gate signs that say 'Never mind the dog, beware of the owner.' The plan was that troll children like this, if they happened to stray into my territory, would take one look at the site, go EEEEWWWWW, call me a lot of really unpleasant sexist names that they can't spell properly, and then bugger off sharpish without leaving any steaming little piles in the Comments box.
I have put the asterisks and no link to the Bl**r blog because it's clear that he spends hours of every day autogoogling and would be sending his moronic minions over here in swarms within ten minutes. I know this because it has happened to poor Jessculture.
And here's a sample:
"I'm young (<30), born again Christian, conservative, married, 4 kids & loving wife.
We are the future."
Now, I'm glad that this upright young sausage has a belief system of sorts and that his wife loves him. That's nice. But I can only hope he realises, soon enough for it to drive him completely nuts, that his four kids will swing the political pendulum back the other way again and rebel against his every belief, just as his own generation has done. I'd like to see that. I'd like it so much that I might even hold off on the hemlock for a while longer.