Sorry About That

It’s going to be slightly annoying around here for a little bit. I’ve turned the comments moderation on. Not forever. Lord knows having to wait for me to okay everything is going to ruin the rhythm of conversations.

But for a little bit.

As you all know, there aren’t a lot of rules around here. Just please don’t personally attack each other and, if at all possible, please don’t take others’ comments as personal attacks.

In the whole time I’ve had Tiny Cat Pants, I’ve only deleted a couple of comments–the ones that I felt were insulting attacks on the Butcher. And then the one from last night, which disclosed all of my personal information.

I thought about leaving it, because, obviously, most of you know who I am and the ones that don’t could always just ask. It’s not a big secret. But some of the information is wrong and, if there are any loonies out there who, for whatever reason, want to hunt me down, it seemed unethical of me to point them to folks who have no idea who I am and thus no responsibility for what I do or say.

So, down it came.

Still, once something’s out there on the internet, it’s out there forever. So, I have to ask, if you’re going to start stalking me, please, beware of the dog.

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24 thoughts on “Sorry About That

  1. I find it very interesting that your talks of cooter, Libertarianism, cooter, PitBulls, cooter and spanking have so threatened, intimidated and frightened someone that they spent the time (2 minutes-2 hours) to look up your personal information rather than spending that time analyzing why they were reacting that way. You never know what effect mere words can have on some people.

    Edit this part if you want: This kind of thing happened to the other half in a previous internet position. I was OK with the weirdos until one of them mailed us a picture of himself standing in our front yard. Freaked me out completely. Don’t let the bastards get you down and give Mrs. W some specific instructions about where to bite.

  2. I must be doing it wrong. Never had a stalker. Must be the guns. Or the dog.

    I did have one guy threaten to kick my ass. I told him to email me when he got to Maryville. Never heard back from him.

    -SayUncle

  3. Yeah, I must admit that there’s something about seeing your home address out there for everyone to see that makes a lefty take a second look at the second amendment.

  4. It’s a rare and bizarre occurance to come into contact with someone who has that pathetic of a life.

    Sure, none of us are yachting on the riviera, but that level of loser is a whole other world. Looking into it is like being at the zoo.

  5. Reading the crap that Joe wrote at Hard Right, it makes me think that he sounds like one of Vox Day’s fluffers.

    All that, “I’m done with you. Don’t you know I’m an ALPHA!”

  6. If you need to borrow some extra ammo to supplement the viciousness of Mrs. Wigglebottom, I have a couple of rotties that can come play guard dog for awhile.

    Saraclark, that goes for you too. Or anyone else who needs it.

  7. Someone posted your personal information?!

    Good grief. What on earth for??? Because they disagreed with you about something?

    That seems to be a little bit strange.

  8. Aunt B,
    I hope this isn’t rude to mention someone else’s blog, so I will understand if you edit or don’t post this.
    I came across two wonderful, real, honest and funny blogs recently that I’ve really enjoyed: Tiny Cat Pants (of course) and Not a Ham Sandwich.
    Now she’s been blog-jacked and you’ve got creepy harrassing stalkers making trouble as well. This makes me sad. It just stinks, that there’s always gotta be someone who pisses in the pool and tries to ruin it for eveyone.

  9. Whoa, a stalker. I didn’t know “Christian Values” included stalking people.

    Sorry you’re having to deal with this, B.

  10. I’m not actually sure it’s that Joe guy from Kleinheider’s. Evidence suggests it’s someone local and Joe, whatever else he might be, is not local.

  11. Well, I have a rather mean looking Mini-Schnauzer…you can borrow him too, but I warn you, his licks are just so cuddly cute.

    Too bad for me I missed the info thought, would have added you to my christmas list.

  12. Maybe I’ll just use that information and start sending you goodies in the mail, you know, like a Secret Santa, or ‘Concealed Cooter.’

    If I had written it down, that is. Damn. Lost my chance.

  13. Yeah, I must admit that there’s something about seeing your home address out there for everyone to see that makes a lefty take a second look at the second amendment.

    Who says a ‘lefty’ can’t be armed? As an erstwhile Christian, I feel compelled to quote my favorite African-American of the 20th Century:
    “I believe that it is a crime for anyone to teach a person who is being brutalized to continue to accept that brutality without doing something to defend himself.”

    Now I know what Jesus said, but to me there’s a big difference between living by the sword and keeping oneself from dying by the sword.

    Lock ‘n’ load, Aunt B.

  14. Ivy, it isn’t.

    And if I were a Nashvillian, I’d suffer through a performance of the Vagina Monologues to prove it.

    Though I’m sure B will give the best damn vaginal monologue ever.

    Give ‘em hell, B.

  15. B, I haven’t seen any of the comments that this jackhole has written, and frankly I don’t care to.

    So I don’t know what they contain, or if they referenced anything you said, but since you are (very understandably) moderating comments, I feel free to offer this possible reason that this is happening.

    It might have to do with the statement you made in an earlier post.

    “The other reason is that I’m tired of being polite. I was telling Exador yesterday that I wish there was a way for abortion providers to play hardball like the militant gay-rights folks. We all know that anti-abortionists themselves have abortions and hide behind doctor-patient confidentiality and we let them.”

    Maybe this sicko is thinking of this he or she is outing you.

    If so, it is a horrible way to make a point.

    If you don’t want to post this, I understand completly, but that’s my theory. Besides somebody not being loved enough by daddy as a kid.

  16. I’ve had this happen to me as well, but it was always more ironic and amusing for me, since, well, I don’t exactly make a secret of who I am or where I live. “Nice job, sir tardsalot”.

  17. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself. It took Mrs Schwartz to point it out to me.

    Comcast is a business. They don’t like bad press or pissed off customers.

    Anybody who’s interested in registering a complaint with Comcast Cable Corporation:

    The jackass’ IP Address: 69.245.42.224

    You can contact Comcast sustomer service at:
    http://www.comcast.com/Support/
    or call 1-800-COMCAST

  18. In 1997 I got involved in a contentious issue in our tiny town. I went to the very first meeting with a lesbian friend, and soon joined up with all the troublemaking lefties in town. My friend and I were so freaked out by the anger at that first town meeting that we kept expecting the car windows to be blown out as we sat in front of my house and talked afterwards.(Her lesbianism was completely irrelevant to the point at issue, but when tempers run hot certain people attack anything they can)

    By the time the second town meeting related to this issue rolled around, a member of the other side had already painted a long rant on the side of his van, naming many of us. He had also photocopied a few sloppy tracts detailing what he thought of us and what he hoped would happen to us. He was a known pyromaniac. Others in his camp styled themselves as a local militia. In past disputes, pets and livestock had been killed, and other vandalism had taken place.

    I slept with the shotgun next to the bed for two years.

    Slowly the problem resolved itself in a rational manner, but it’s rteally weird when life looks like it’s starting to turn into a cheesy TV movie.

    I’m glad I didn’t have to resort to firearms. The house was quite tiny at the time, and it would have made a big, splattery mess.

  19. I take one day off from the blogosphere and what the hell happened?
    I will never use the words “aggressively stalking of Aunt B” on my blog again although it was meant with the greatest of respect.
    I can’t believe someone posted your personal stuff.
    Amazing.
    I’m like you though, I don’t care if people want to know who I am, all they have to do is ask. I’ve had several candidates (who probably wouldn’t give me the time of day if it weren’t an election year) contact me and I always tell them who I am.
    I hope this doesn’t cause you any long-term inconvenience.
    Keep doing all the good stuff you do.
    Have a good time performing “The Cooter Monologues.”
    Wishing you peace.

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