The Adventures of Pete the Internet Laughingstock

Feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola
Anniversary - US Patent Office
Birthday - J.K. Rowling (author)
Chinese Valentine's Day (China)

 

One of the guiltiest pleasures of the internet is the opportunity it gives us to feel so blatantly superior to those who are not in the know. It is somewhat despicable, but there’s no denying that a large portion of our perceived superiority stems from knowing something somebody else doesn’t, which means that a newcomer to the internet (or anything, actually) has to do a certain amount of nervous inference to understand everything, because asking what everything means or how to do something others can do with apparent ease marks you as an easy target for derision. I don’t like this—I hate that people equate ignorance with stupidity—but I must admit I’m guilty of it myself.

 

Lately the people who watch the blogosphere solely so they can disapprove of it have been strongly disapproving of the reaction to the unfortunate story of Pete (warning: some of the pages Pete puts up have the gross Dead Baby pictures plastered all over them), a hapless pro-life idiot who found an old op-ed by a woman who was “totally psyched” to have her abortion. Pete wrote a scathing rebuttal to this woman, never noticing that the the article in question was from the Onion, and also from about seven years ago. Old Pete was flogged mercilessly by the internet mob for this—you can’t resist such an easy target as this, and anyway it’s a pretty damn funny story.

 

But here are a couple of things about it that I’m having trouble with.

( Humor-Impairedness )

 

( And My Old Control Rant )

Quote of the Day To Lighten the Mood

“I had to call your brother and tell him not to park on the roast.”

 

Today’s quote brought to you by Mom’s solar oven, which comprises a dutch oven and a thing that looks a lot like those cardboard slats with the tinfoil on ’em that people used to use to get good tans.

 

If you thought our kitchen sounded scary, just wait’ll I tell you about our driveway food.

 

Who, us?  Hippies?