(This is an entry, but it explains me pretty darn well, so I’m giving it a page too.)

 

This was sent as a comment to me by someone who knows me personally, and good god it’s wordy so I’m just going to publish it as an entry instead. This references my previous entry Hold My Head Down, Tim

Because good god it’s wordy! Wait did I already say that?

Fair warning: I’m going to write a REALLY long and boring reply to A. and anyone else who wonders whether ChickenLiver is being at best sophomoric or at worst frustrated with jealousy (Jacqualyn, this means you). If you’re looking for funny, skip to the next comment.

You’re absolutely right that this entry conjures gross images. It’s pretty tasteless. And no doubt it will live on in some way on the InterTubeNets, there for her children to find someday.

I seriously doubt, however, that this represents the most repulsive thing Ree’s children or anyone could be exposed to. ChickenLiver obviously does not know Ree or Heather personally. So what she says in this vein can be easily dismissed. You have all done this the first time you got over a profane and disgusting comment anyone else sent in your direction; if not, then you’ve certainly done it when you learned to just delete emails sent to you encouraging you to look at pictures of bestiality, buy erectile-dysfunction pharmaceuticals, and so on. You would never take it personally. If you do, there’s really no help for you.

So this Poop on Peeps blog IS coarse, and for no really good reason other than it frees ChickenLiver to say what she likes, as she likes, and if she gets a cheap laugh, it doesn’t really cost anyone anything. Ree and Heather and their ilk may not appreciate the sentiments behind it, but it probably does drive up a small amount of interest in their blogs, and as they are clearly all about the money they can’t complain that much. I know that ChickenLiver has made a choice not to put ads on this blog. Her motivation is not about the money. It’s about truth.

Let’s talk about the truth about judging. The truth is EVERYONE judges. You must. It’s essential to judge. Discrimination is what you use to improve your life. You can do it in a good way, and you can do it in a bad way. In the good way, both the judger and the one judged feel their lives are improved. In the bad way, the judger may feel better, but the one judged may feel worse.

Let’s talk about hypocrisy. NOT everyone is a hypocrite. The hypocrite judges by different standards than those to which he or she abides. But here’s something interesting. You don’t, actually, in fact, HAVE to be NOT a hypocrite in order to recognize someone else as a hypocrite, nor to say so. Obviously, your words mean more when you are not a hypocrite, but the truthfulness is not diminished if you are. The oft-quoted Biblical phrase “Let he who is without sin throw the first stone” doesn’t always fly well when you’re talking about social justice. If we could condemn punishment on no man without being perfectly free from even the smallest crime, then no one would ever be punished.

As it happens, ChickenLiver is largely not a hypocrite, but you only have my word, and who am I to you? Even if she was, her accusations can be taken on their own merit.

Dooce and PioneerWoman by themselves are rather innocuous. Dooce is smart, clever with words, bold, sure. Ree is smart, clever at marketing, and appeals to the romantic in all of us. But what makes both of them interesting studies are their followers. Their followers are unapologetic zealots, mercilessly flaming and ripping to shreds anyone who doesn’t love all things Dooce or PioneerWoman. Rather than simply dismissing Heather and Ree’s detractors or critics, they launch vicious attacks. They defend Heather and Ree without weighing the veracity of the observations about them. They are idol-worshippers, cultists of the worst kind.

So what makes ChickenLiver any better? Why pay any attention to her? Well, if you are a Dooceling or a PWist, what you should do is this: repeat the same old tripe you were always going to do anyway. Slam away, flame on, and do all those other thoughtless ways of conducting poor arguments: ad hominem attacks, appeals to religious authority, majority-mindedness, and circular logic.

If you are NOT in the above camp, and you are on the fence thinking about whether ChickenLiver is on to something, or merely enjoys mudslinging, consider this. Behind the obscenity, between the profanity, and under the satire, there are honest observations about the behavior of Heather and Ree (and others, of course). This metaphorical child who proclaims that the Empresses have no clothes has the mouth and humor of a sailor, that’s true. This is a forum she’s created where she can do that in a socially appropriate way.

Heather is, for as smart as she is, doing something wrong. She’s exploiting her family. While her husband supports her, it’s nevertheless tantamount to selling her child into slavery. And her family and friends, for that matter. I think she believes her blog is about being brutally honest and refreshingly raw, an unvarnished look at what really happens inside most families. Well, yes, it is. That doesn’t make it a good thing. Look, when I need to explain to my four-year old son where babies come from, I DON’T SHOW HIM HOW IT’S DONE. It’s just as important to exercise some discretion as it is to be honest, sometimes more so. I’ll explain.

If you read Dooce and thought to yourself, “Finally! A woman brave enough to share with the rest of the world how life really happens inside a family! I can SO identify with that,” then you are missing something vital. Say for a moment that you found for an instant that kind of bravery in yourself, and you happened to be standing near the microphone they use at the grocery stores, and it’s full of shoppers. What would you share, with that kind of bravery? Let’s just assume it’s something sordid, humiliating and embarrassing. The kind of thing a comedian shares to get a laugh. NOW, imagine that it’s the next day. You are no longer yourself. You are now known as The Person Who Airs Dirty Laundry. You are now our Joke. Sure, we all privately do and say those things you shared publicly. But who’s any better for it?

You see, my friendships and relationships are built on trust. Trust that I can talk to my friends and family and admit or ask about embarrassing things, and that I won’t become the joke. Instead, we all become closer, and our relationships become better and stronger. That’s what makes those people important to me: they know secrets about me. If I divulge my secrets to everyone without regard for their compassion towards me, then I should expect to be the butt of some jokes. I’m a comedian. But what if I’m divulging the secrets that my friends and family should expect me to keep for them? That is what Heather does with her daughter. Since she did that, she’s no longer a comedian, and certainly not even just a documentarian. She’s a pimp. Worse, she’s a pimp for a very underage child.

It’s not about sex, you say? I say, what makes sex the only possible reason a pimp would have for exploiting a child (or anyone)? A pimp is there for the money he or she can make by taking advantage of other people’s desires to use someone else as an object to fulfill some base appetite. If a pimp could make more money selling access to those who will allow themselves to be mutilated rather than for sexual favors, they would do that instead. Reading Dooce as a fan is like having an open tab at a brothel of preteens.

Ree is brilliant at marketing an image of what we’d all love to do: get away from the insanity of scandal-driven news, politics, traffic, financial distress, work pressures, and all the other silly pursuits we like to pretend are Really Important Things That Need Paying Attention To, and instead live where life is simple, the air is always as nature intended it, the sun is your alarm clock, and food is as fresh as it can get while not being difficult to prepare.

Look, I love a good movie or book as much as anyone, even those that falsely present themselves as documentaries or memoirs. But I’ve been blessed with a mind that’s halfway decent at critical thinking. Sure, I got fooled once: it was early in the days of the Web on the InterTubeNets, and someone forwarded me an email warning about a guy who woke up in a bathtub full of ice and a note… you know the story. And even though my mom repeatedly cautioned me, “Don’t believe everything you read,” there I went on believing it because it sounded like one of those “truth is stranger than fiction” things. But then I discovered snopes.com, and my eyes were opened, never to be fooled like that again.

Betty Crocker is not and never has been a real person. It should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with that factoid that PioneerWoman is not, either. That is: Ree is real, sure. And no doubt she is documenting stuff from her actual life, and basically leaving it rather unadorned of things to titillate her readers, focusing instead on the image of The PioneerWoman. And if you love the escape she provides, then by all means, keep buying those tickets.

But don’t go around insisting that everyone else must believe the myth, too. Ree is a very wealthy woman, with more money than any 50 of us put together. She also has very familiar and stupid dramas in her life, just like us. She and her husband have the same arguments, misunderstandings, and frustrations with each other as any other average relationship. She manages her web site like the fairly robust business that it is. Have you ever owned a business? Is that “the simple life”? Have you ever tried-really tried-to blog about something different and readable every day? Do you know how nerve-wracking that can be? She’s not actually living the life you’re fantasizing about. She’s just really good at making it-no, what am I saying?-at “keeping it real.”

So, if you keep reading ChickenLiver, be prepared to be a little offended at some of the imagery. It will sometimes be a little coarse, a little gross. Just remember that ChickenLiver does not exploit her family. She doesn’t try to paint a false picture of her full life. She’s just not going to put up with those that do, and more importantly, with those rabid fanatics who try to push their personal myths onto the rest of us. The myth that Heather is just a refreshingly honest mommy blogger. The myth that Ree is one of us urbanites/suburbanites who successfully escaped to the peace we know is waiting for us in the rural heartland.

I’d rather stick to the myths that are less likely to be confused with reality. Like, the myth that Elvis is still alive, that Area 51 has a real UFO, and that one day we will all Just Learn To Get Along With Each Other.