I am hardly alone in this sentiment, but I love the web. I want to marry the web and bear its children. Its adoption allowed me to move away from Redmond into the (relative) country 90 minutes away. In related news, web sales and cheap shipping allow me stay home instead of driving 45 minutes to the nearest mall. Two weeks ago, I set a personal record: two UPS trucks and two FedEx trucks arrived in one day. I am the Sasquatch of carbon footprints.
Yet like most spouses, the web comes with relatives I would just as soon not have in my life. If Metamuville ever loses broadband, I will mourn, but not for these miscreants.
The wite soopremesist—In real life, it's relatively easy for the discriminating white guy to avoid bigots. They have their circle, I have mine, and if they ever entered the latter and started shouting misspelled epithets, they would be pounded into grease stains. This is understood by all, so a detente exists. Not so on the web, where, vastly emboldened by anonymity, they delight in spewing bile into every crevice. Because of them, I wouldn't much mind if web anonymity disappeared altogether. How about a full name and Mapquest link for every commenter, web gods?
The attention whore—This is the guy who demands your attention. You. Yours. If you're interested in, say, Steelers discussion and politely ignore a guy's implications that he'll commit suicide, he demands to know why you're ignoring him. You say you're not interested in anything that's not Steelers news. You are accused of snobbery. And as if to prove the point, you leave the discussion.
The labelmaker—This is the guy who's incapable of constructing an argument, so he labels yours. You're a liberal. You probably voted for Bush twice. You're a fanboy. You're a hater. You're stupid. Except this person will invariably and without exception spell it "your." But hey, I'm not not judging.
The laugh track—A close cousin of the labelmaker, he too is incapable of constructing an argument, so he merely deems yours amusing. "Your so pathetic, you make me laugh," he'll write before vomiting bile. He is a curiously unmirthful fellow, despite his earlier claim.
The beaten horse corpse—Let me put it this way: if you're still making tampon jokes about the iPad, this is you.
The goose-stepping parrot—This person simply repeats what he's heard elsewhere. You can tell from the phrasing, which you see repeated a lot, despite its underlying untruth. Obama is a "socialist" "Muslim" even though he demonstrably isn't either. Clinton's troubles were "about a blowjob," even though they were about perjury. Bush's wars are "illegal," whatever that means in warfare. iPads are "just a big iTouch." Avatar "has narrative merits." (Okay, I made the last one up. No one actually says that.)
Rip Van Winkle—Confronted with an unimpeachable argument, this garden tool dismisses it as "tired" instead of refuting it.
"Um, what about the part of the second amendment that mentions gun rights in the context of a 'well-regulated militia?'""Oh god. Not THAT tired old argument. Get a new one."
The supreme arbiter of the universe—This guy claims veto power over reality itself. "A REAL Republican wouldn't vote for this bill," he'll write. As soon as I get to the word "REAL" in all caps, my brain switches off. When in Rome.
The crouching tiger—This is the Stank troll who reads three sentences before firing off an accusatory email, sending me back to my post to see if I really endorsed rapists.
"Sigh. You just don't understand, John."—When your arguments fail to persuade me, there are three possible interpretations: 1) your argument failed, 2) reasonable people can reasonably disagree, or...
The consensus builder—"God your stupid. Everyone knows Obama is the worst presdent we've ever had," he skillfully argues. "ROTFL so true! I cant beleive how stupid some people are!" some douche-nozzle invariably replies. The public mutual masturbation that ensues is unbefitting the Internet's standards of taste and decorum.
The absolutist—He speaks for everyone. "Everyone knows Bush stole the election," he'll say in lieu of evidence. "No one likes Chevy trucks," he declares. His apparent strategies: 1) to sneak what he wishes to be true into the short list of unassailable laws of nature, right between gravity and the speed of light, and 2) if someone falls outside the bounds of "everyone," well, just how freakishly stupid must that person be? Me, I'm neither everyone nor no one. Just like everyone never says.