By David Mendez
I, like most of you who have Internet access at work, spend a lot of time online. (Though, like all of you, I never waste class time online. Right? No, don’t nod your head or your instructor will notice. Good job.)
This may come as a shock, but as a journalist I keep up with the news quite a bit — newspaper websites, blogs, webcomics about stick figures, etc.
Unfortunately, despite being intelligent, witty and charming, I appear to lack the sense to stay away from the comment section of these sites.
I’m no stranger to the vitriol of the Internet. After all, I play Call of Duty online. There’s nothing quite like hearing a 12-year-old tell you what he did with your mother last night.
Still, something special happens when you give regular, decent human beings the freedom to anonymously comment on subjects they know nothing about: they become one of any variety of Internet douche bags.
If you’ve spent any time on the Internet, you know what I’m talking about. There’s the standard ill-informed conservative, screaming that our president is a Muslim who hates White America (which, by admission, isn’t one of Eminem’s better songs.)
There’s the touchy minority defender who screams that any mention of a person’s nationality is racism, completely ignoring that the phrase “pot calling the kettle black” has nothing to do with African-American cookware.
There’s also the standard Internet belief that anyone who stands for gay rights has to be gay. That is so blindingly stupid that I don’t even want to waste time sarcastically refuting it.
Last, but certainly not finally, there’s “tl;dr” which is shorthand for “too long; didn’t read.” That happens to be shorthand for “I give you full permission to ignore my forthcoming opinion on the Playstation 3, which is what I think this article might be about based on the title.”
Let’s be real with ourselves here, people. Unless you’ve got a need for attention comparable to anyone on “Dancing With The Stars” (my football savior Kurt Warner excepted), don’t be an Internet douche bag. Life’s just easier that way, kids.
For the record, my mother is a lovely, happily married woman — and if you cross her, she’ll destroy you on Call of Duty.