This is MY blog

I write this blog alone. I don’t have a staff, or editors or advertisers to answer to. I don’t ever pretend to be fair or journalistic in my approach. While it seems people do read it, I don’t write it with the expectation that people will read it. Sometimes I write just to get something off my chest and in a large part that is why I’m writing today.

If you hate it when I do that… stop reading now.

I really feel IM’s that come along in Second Life should have a crazy meter on them. Something to warn you how whacked out the person sending you the IM actually is. If they had this feature I would have gotten fair warning as to the nature of cat Boucher’s… oh wait,

I better not user her real “fake name”, that might seem personal. Let’s call her Cat Blowhard.

If they had this feature I would have gotten fair warning as to the nature of Cat Blowhard’s “crazygram™” the other day.

Seems Cat was up set because I posted about some personal issue I have with Pere…oops, better use another fake “fake name”…. Let’s call him Pere-grim Sigh.

Cat is supposedly running some kind of charity thing and asked me to be involved. But my inability to keep private matters private made her think it would be better if we didn’t work together.

I agreed because I was setting up for a show, and wished her luck.

Then she went on and on, droning about how it’s all about the music and doing something for a good cause… blah blah blah. At this point… I’m pissed off.

For the record I don’t have issues with Pere-grim. He’s got enough of his own issues. The man has been wondering around second life lately making damn sure anybody that gave a rat’s ass about him no longer bothers.

The only thing I’ve posted about Pere-grim is awarding him a Zorchie as “The best instrumentalist that leaves Second Life forever about three times a day”. If he took offense at that, it’s his problem. Being a humorless prick is a problem.

Of course he’s got far more serious problems… but that is not my problem.

Now if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t it Cat’s public dumping of Pere-grim that caused him to move from his comfortable two bed room apartment in Eccentric-ville to a refrigerator box on the mean streets of Whacko-city? So in effect, I’m being dragged into the middle of Cat and Pere-grim’s psychotic apache dance in the name of Charity.

In the beloved words of American humorist Mark Twain, “Fuck that shit”.

I try to be a nice guy; I try to help out charitable causes. But there is a limit to my willingness to be exploited in the name of charity.

I’ve really gotta learn to put people on mute. There are some people I never want to hear from again.