The Best Worst Comments: Volume IV

It’s a good year when I get to have two Best Worst Comments posts before summer even begins.

It’s a good year because people are really getting passionate about the important things – like sherbet.

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And….bass turds? I don’t even understand what that has to do with sherbet but I’m pretty sure it’s not an ingredient.

The above comments, of course, were on my Dilemna/Dilemma post (and the universe shift theory that goes with it), which still gets tons of traffic due to the MASSIVE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE IN THE WORLD LIKE ME. Except that those people like me are also a little scary…

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Somebody please tell Zoe that she probably shouldn’t enter a spelling or geography bee anytime soon. Her head might completely explode when she sees that the United Kingdom is an island – AND SO IS ENGLAND!!

Arthur is also still struggling, and apparently still shifting.

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It’s also a good year because people are taking the time to be offended by five-year-old comments on six-year-old posts.

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Actually, Erin was getting offended last year by five year old comments. But of course, someone was offended by Erin this year.

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(One day, I should explain to all these people that the person they’re attacking gets no notification of the attack against them. And that with the time lapse between the offending comment and resulting attack, they very well may be dead.)

(But. I’m sure the fact that their victim is already deceased has never stopped a vicious internet troll before, so by all means continue.)

It’s a good year because, continuing in the vein of “they’ll never see your reply,” my Big Bang Theory MBTI post was graced with an expert who disagreed with everyone who disagreed with me. There’s too many to put here (you’d fall asleep before you read them all,) but “Smarty Pants” took it upon himself to ‘splain to everyone how they got it wrong. Sometimes in short form,

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Sometimes in medium form,

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And sometimes in long form.

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But it’s an even better year because of COURSE, somebody had to come and disagree with him.

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…and, after telling “SmaryPants” (which is way grosser than SmartyPants) to quit disagreeing with everyone, he had to throw a p.s. in there…that was disagreeing with me.

It’s a good year.

It’s a good year because another post that gets a lot of Google hits, an especially disgusting post about that feeling of snot in the back of your throat that you just can’t evict, had some special visitors.

I kinda wish I still had the problem so I could try CJ’s solution. Although I fear I might break my nose again in the process.

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But more detailed than CJ – in the most extreme way, was Chazz Tubjuggler. Who blessed us with three tomes of phlegmy information – including the priceless advice of “become a smoker so that you’re more experienced with mucous removal.”

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There’s so much here. SO MUCH. But yes. He also recommends the “Farmer Sneeze.”

And who hasn’t delivered huge mucous baby at 100mph through their nose?

Also, if smoking is so great for phlegm removal expertise, why has he been dealing with it his entire life?

Oh but Chazz isn’t done.

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The more I read, the more I think that Chazz might have done his lifetime of smoking on a farm. His country analogies are ON POINT.

Of course it couldn’t be a good year without at least ONE fantastic denim comment.

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Oh Ranger. I think you must be the talk of the farm.

It’s a good year because Ed felt it necessary to make this comment on a post that had absolutely nothing to do with Birmingham.

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And Realist made this comment on a post that had nothing to do with Indians.

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And a regular reader, Nancy, taught me this valuable new phrase on this post.

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But my favorite comments are on the post you guys helped me write a few years ago – A Scientific Report on Chick Cars. Obviously tongue-in-cheek, I took a survey and then tallied the results, gauging cars based on their manliness or chickliness.

You’d think that women would be offended most by my gender-boxing, but NO. Men have been extraordinarily angry about the entire idea.

There’s this guy, who was clearly attempting to call me an idiot, but accidentally named himself idiot in the process…

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(There’s absolutely no such thing as sarcasm and exaggeration in Mr. Idiot’s universe, apparently),

And then there was Ryan.

Oh, Ryan.

When I read this comment,

And the name he gave me,

I laughed out loud, multiple times, for days.

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Confederate Shehag.

Guys. He called me a CONFEDERATE SHEHAG!!!

This should be my byline on every social network, business card, church directory, and résumé for the rest of time.

Rachel Callahan, Confederate Shehag.
Writer, photographer, and the reason that feminism is a complete joke.