A RESPONSE TO terrainmonkey ON HIS/HER BLOG 'KILTLANDER' (*I say his/her because the writer is another anonymous chickenshit hiding behind a fake name. Unless, of course, he/she really IS a monkey, then, I do apologize. In fact, that would explain a lot.)

After reading the post titled DEAR OBSESSED FAN- STOP IT ALREADY by terrainmonkey on his/her blog Kiltlander, the first thing that ran through my head was the Three Dog Night song ‘Mama Told Me Not To Come’:

  

Walk away Denise…don’t respond…don’t go there…it’s a waste of time and energy. You may regret it! Those were the words being whispered to me under that song.

But like all good advice given to me in my life, I will ignore it. Doing so has given me decades of pleasure and the scars to prove it.

What I find fascinating in terrainmonkey's post is th... just wait, I can’t write that inane moniker throughout this response so let me dub him/her ‘Hizzer’ (short for His/Her as he/she hides behind a wall of anonymity). That's better.

Okay. So. What I find fascinating in Hizzer’s piece, is that the irony of telling people to STOP doing things because they have no right to tell others what to do is completely lost on him/her. He/She starts off condemning fans who cross over the line of decency and go 'nuts', which I agree with..crazyassfans who go overboard need to seek therapy...but very quickly the bar at which Hizzer labels crazyass is lowered to include normal fan stuff like gossip, shipping etc...and it is there he/she lost me.

  

He/She tells them to (and I must paraphrase here as going back to that blog to get verbatim quotes would take too much drugs and booze to shield me from the stupidity of it, but I think I got the gist of it pretty spot on): 

- ‘shut up about Cait’s looks! She is a supermodel with a shitload of money and you probably look like shit so fuck off’

- ‘stop casting stones at Sam cuz he, like, ya know, donates to sick kids and you never even gave to the Salvation Army did you, you cheap jerk’

- ‘Hey Twitter Queen! Eat shit and die!

- 'YOU.DON’T. GET.TO.TELL.SAM.WHAT.TO DO.PERIOD.'   ̶O̶N̶L̶Y̶.̶I̶.̶G̶E̶T̶.̶T̶O̶.̶T̶E̶L̶L̶.̶E̶V̶E̶R̶Y̶O̶N̶E̶.̶W̶H̶A̶T̶ ̶T̶O̶.̶D̶O̶.̶A̶N̶D̶ ̶Y̶E̶L̶L̶.̶W̶H̶I̶L̶E̶.̶D̶O̶I̶N̶G̶.̶I̶T̶.̶ 
- All you stupid women out there, you Twitter Queens, STOP tweeting ‘good morning’ to Sam cuz he will NOT respond and you dumb twats are so obsessed with your imaginary boyfriend that you are looking for any crumb he drops and would die if he acknowledged you so just go away and get a life.’
- and finally, ‘You Shippers out there are pathetic. Sam and Cait are NOT a couple and they won’t have Bree babies so just piss off. They are not a couple so JUST STOP IT!’  

Again, this is just paraphrasing...the way I recall it, so go ahead and check for yourself if you're skeptical. *I rarely link others' blogs as it gives them more attention, but in this case, who cares. Go for it. You may agree with him/her! Many do, apparently. *sigh* Maybe I read differently than others...it could be a syndrome.
  
I am certain I could say more about the article but I don’t remember much more offhand…my mind automatically protects me from such drivel by jettisoning it out of my mind asap after reading it, so I cannot even paraphrase anymore. It’s gone. Floating down the river of Self-Righteousness I suppose, buoyed by judgmental sexism and opinionated arrogance.
  
I say sexism and not chauvinism because, right or wrong, I relate chauvinism to male behavior, and well, ‘Hizzer’ leaves me in doubt, so sexism is a sexless umbrella and therefore the more appropriate term. Why the label at all? Well, I didn't see the word King anywhere in a derisive way…just Queen. Looks to me like Hizzer, who somewhere hints at being male (can’t recall where but without a real name and suspended twitter account that might have held clues, that could be a red herring) could be a misogynist in sheep’s clothing. But then again, can’t women be misogynists too? Girl on Girl Hatred? Hmmm…tis a possibility. Ah well. Whatever. I smell woman-hate and it doesn’t matter where it comes from. 

Or maybe it’s gay-bashing? Calling people ‘Queens’ in such an ugly manner smacks of homophobia…unless Hizzer is gay and as a gay individual who uses that kind of language, feels comfortable saying it that way. Again…whatever. Unclear. But it reads like disrespect for women and that part IS clear. To me. *I may be alone in this opinion but that is a cross I bear now and then. It is as it is.

Oh…and near the end of the rant I recall Hizzer saying something about Outlander fans who do not act within the parameters of his/her Rules and Regulations are like a bunch of Annie Wilkes-like creatures (you know, the super-fan psycho from the movie ‘Mercy’).  Wow. Throw in a Hallelujah! and we'd have a new preacher in our midst! ‘Lordy Lordy Lord…Let my celebrities go! Bring Hail, Lightning and your Mighty Wrath onto those who won’t leave Sam and Cait alone!’

Hizzer says he/she is an actor/actress (this could be true…I saw Planet of the Apes) and so this qualifies him/her to be their spokesman? I dunno. I am asking. Anyone?

Bottom line for me is this: fans are fans and like all human beings, they range from good to bad, lovely to ugly, and brilliant to dull as a dry turd. I’ll wager most celebs know that if they make it big, they may get fans who run this gambit of adjectives and along with reaping in the tons of love, they will occasionally feel the point of a rather large dunce cap. It is part of their chosen profession and therefore life, and they take it in stride. I find it all quite fascinating. And I watch it in all its beauty and ugliness and shall not condemn others for their nature, unless they go flippyapeshit and become a physical threat or public nuisance, then I would say so and judge the fuck outta them for sure. But that is apples (stalkers) when we are talking oranges (fans). A whole new enchilada. A cupcake with a different icing.

Suddenly I feel peckish. *grin*

And now, for some odd reason the words of King Arthur come to mind: ‘Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left!’. And no legs to stand on.

*speaking of Monty Python, they give the best advise to those who are obsessed with those who are obsessed:

SIGNS Part 1

I believe in Signs.

Not your Burning Bush type of sign, although that would definitely catch my attention in an “OMG! What the hell was I smoking?” kind of way, but the clever, subtle signs that are there if you pay attention. There have been too many unexplainable things that have happened to me over the years to doubt it.

Some of the signs are small and easy to miss but others are a jackhammer to the head that are pretty hard to ignore.

For example:

When my youngest daughter Katharina was four months old, I wanted to put a ‘Happy First Valentine’s Day’ announcement in the newspaper, but I hesitated.

We lived in a small town and I had just re-married and had a new baby after a long, bitter divorce from the father of my four older children, a prominent dentist in the community. My choices to marry again so quickly and have a fifth child at such a ‘advanced’ age (I was 39) made me happier than I had ever been in my life, but I knew the town gossips were feasting on my every move. If I continued my scandalous ways, they would explode like Mr. Creosote (the outrageously obese man in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, remember?). I didn’t miss the ‘life in a fish bowl’ I had endured before and I wondered if I should just keep things low-key and not add any more fodder to their troughs: Oh look! The kid has a hyphenated last name! I bet her ex won’t like that...blah, blah...projectile vomit...blah...blah...

Did I want to keep their slavering tongues wagging?

I thought about it for a while and finally decided to do it. I would not let others dictate how I lived my life. I sent in the details with a cutie-patootie picture and waited for the paper to come out on Valentine’s Day.

A couple of hectic weeks later, I had just dropped of the older kids at school when I realized I was driving near the newspaper office and still hadn’t picked up the issue that had Katharina's picture in it! As I pulled into the parking lot, I decided I needed five copies; one for the baby book and a few to mail out to family.

I asked the girl at the counter for five copies of the February 14^th paper and she said that there would be a big pile of back-issues on a tall metal rack off to the side. I looked but couldn’t find a single copy. I asked for help in case I was doing something wrong and after a few minutes of searching, she said she was sorry, but it looked like they were all gone. An odd thing too, she added, because there were usually plenty of extra copies around even a year after printing.

I was devastated. No clipping for Katja’s baby book! I could have cried.

I was about to walk out the door when I noticed a small stack of newspapers lying on a lone chair by the doorway. I glanced down at the date out of curiosity and could not believe my eyes; February 14^th!

I looked up at the girl at the counter and asked , “Did you put these here? They’re the date I was looking for!”

She was shocked and said she hadn’t. Then she asked how many copies were there.

I counted five.

After looking at each other in silence for a moment, she said, “Somebody is looking out for you, aren’t they?”

I just nodded and took the papers to my car. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had such a feeling of ...I don’t know...elation would be the closest word I can find to describe it.

And I thought, ‘Okay...I get it. I believe. You have made your point LOUD and CLEAR!’

I had been given a very significant sign: You are where you should be. You are on the right path. I felt emboldened.

Was it a Guardian Angel? God? Zoltar from the Planet Nekron? Who knows. But I do know one thing. Some things are just too amazing to be a coincidence.

Suck on that mint Mr. Creosote!