There is no justice in the world.

Kathy Sierra is someone I've never heard of til now, because, well, I'm not a computer nerd. But my husband is, and he pointed her out to me recently because apparently she's a big deal in the geek blogger world, and an even bigger deal now that she's stopped blogging because she got some lukewarm death threats. A couple of commenters said some nasty things about her, one guy Photoshopped a picture of her with a noose around her neck, she got all oversensitive about it and bam! She makes it into the top 10 searches on Technorati. She was number one for a few days.

Personally, it looks to me like the chick is overreacting a bit. As death threats go, what happened to her is pretty tame; I know you guys could do way better. Either way, I'm indignant. How come I never get death threats from you rat bastards? You're mentally unbalanced, right? And don't I repeatedly say objectionable, offensive things to and about you? In a perfect world, the combination of those two factors should be enough to get me a death threat or two that I could then publicly freak out about and get a big surge in search hits.

It's not like I haven't tried to cultivate your wrath, either. Some of you I even single out and blindly attack, unprovoked, over and over. Jesus, what more do I have to do to get a death threat, here? I'm not sure if you're too lazy or if you're just a bunch of pussies, but either way, I'm getting screwed.

What the hell has happened to the youth of America? There's no ambition anymore, no get up and go. Gone are the days of John Hinckley, Jr. and Mark David Chapman, when a dangerously unbalanced person had the gumption to channel his psychosis into action. Now you nutjobs just spend your days slumped in your filthy, cat-filled apartments, surfing the internet for circus seal porn. I blame antidepressants, the dramatic increase of which is responsible for killing the ambition of the stalker/murderer community and turning you all into a bunch of lazy crybabies trying to find your inner child. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

All I can say is I've done my part. I've said horrible things about you; I've taunted you. I've called your mothers whores, mocked you for your sexually-transmitted diseases, made more small-penis jokes than there are penises in the world. At this point, I give up. It takes two to make a death threat work, and you're not doing your part. I can't force you. You have to want to change, and until you make that decision in your life, well, things are never going to get better.

I can't do it anymore; I can't continue to be more personally invested in your psychosis than you are yourself. At this point, I wash my hands of you.

Labels: Get off your asses and help me