When the top of my screen lights up with a blog comment symbol, I check it right away:  Great!  It’s one of my two-to-three-max comments a day!

But I am also psychic, and I had a bad feeling about this one.  I’d seen this commenter overstepping boundaries and dripping venom all over the blogosphere.   Finally I read the comment:  a long, incoherent attack on a very light, harmless post I’d banged out about a book I love.

I was not offended or shattered or whatever I was supposed to feel.  I was bored.

And my experience with family mental health problems has taught me to interpret such comments in terms of mental afflictions. My husband always says, “Kat, that person’s not undiagnosed Bipolar 2; he’s an asshole!” And he’s probably right 90% of the time.  But if you have close friends or relatives with mental illness, you let off steam by joking inappropriately.  Besides, I skimmed the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders during one of my cousin’s appointments at the hospital and would love the chance to diagnose somebody.

MEANWHILE:

I prescribe Pushkin for all bloggers who have had to read nasty comments, because he will charm you and take your breath away.   Thank God for Russians!

I prescribe Emily Dickinson for all the commenters I like.  They will exalt you!

And the nasty commenter I just had the pleasure of censoring had better read Pollyanna or something about morality, because I don’t want to hear one bad thing from you ever again, Missy!