Mudslinging

I love slinging mud at morons, especially armchair quarterbacks. I've been on the receiving end, and it felt queasy. Why not reverse it for a change.

After a long time, I found one moron to compost. In mudslinging at Venus' blog, a gentleman Sreej*** said the spirit of Indians is great and sputtered his own agenda on how the Bombay train blasts could've been avoided.

Nothing wrong; he just seemed disaffected, compared to folks like, say, relatives of people who died in the blasts. That got me going with some classic trash talk -- unknown words, South Park terminology, you name it. Stuff designed for "turds" like him.

He fell right into the trap and returned with this baloney: "You are a journalist. I honestly do not know what newspaper accepted you as their employee, seeing your horrible language." (His usage? Queen's English. Verbose structure with *three* verb forms in the same sentence, inconsistent verb tense and wrong attribution. Sick, ugh. This is a blog for god's sake, calm down man.)

Anyways, my writing is bad. It really sucks. I'm not as elaborate as Brimful, Iditis or Mukta. Classic journalism isn't about good writing anyways; newspapers are boring to read. I can't even read my own articles. He deserved some heat, and I gave it to him.

If he's smart, he won't respond. Smart people avoid trash talk from losers like me. If he does, he's falling straight into a trap to put him through garbage disposal. Do I sound like a sicko? Hey, I *need* this one. In a world of smart people, lunkheads like him are hard to find.

But seriously, the broken spirit of people who lost loved ones in the blast won't 'bounce' back quickly. They are the people *really* affected by it. They can be found mourning a loss, not dancing in the alley.