ANST - Goodbye

[Timothy A. McDaniel]

I hope you will pardon me in my ill humor and my ill humours, and
allow me this catharsis.

Suppose you're sitting next to me at feast, and I start whistling
(somewhat loudly) some dull four-note phrase, "do re do la".  Off-key,
of course, and over and over and over again like a two-year-old.  You
try to ignore it, but for some reason, it just grates on your nerves
more and more.  Eventually, you turn to me and, as politely as you
possibly can, say "Would you please ...".

Question: should I think "well, I see no harm in it, but they do, so
I'll be nice and stop"?  Or is it appropriate for me to snap "Who made
you the king????" and make a point of continuing?

Apparently the latter.

I've tried to mention points of network etiquette.  I've tried to
phrase them as polite requests in private.  I've put messages on the
list with no fingers pointed at any particular person.  These points
are *not my own inventions* and *are not controversial*.  They've been
around for years and are frequently posted in the Usenet newsgroup
news.announce.newusers, among other places.

Results?  I got back two highly indignant replies of "Who made you the
moderator????", and the rest ignore me.  One of the two (the name
matters not) I happened to meet for the first time, and just after I
introduced myself they hit me.  Not hard, but a hit.  Name of GOD!
I utterly *DETEST* feeling like I'm in ninth grade again, fearing the
teasing, and the bullying, and the hitting.

And then this recent flamewar.  Someone e-mails crap to someone, and
the recipient's husband carefully scoops up the shit and throws it
into the Ansteorran mailing list fan, so we *all* get a chance to
appreciate the soggy gooey texture *all* over our faces with extra
bonus oh-so-yummy fragrance.  I plead with all concerned to keep it
private, repeatedly.  Result?  Several of them seem to delight in
going back, scooping it back up again, and tossing it right back into
the fan.  Over.  And over.  And over.

And then there's the recent spate of "oops!  I meant to send that
privately!" messages.  What has it been -- maybe four since Friday?
I would have hoped that after one or even two occurrences, people
would sit up and take notice, and maybe think before trying it
themselves.  But three or four?  O my kingdom!  Surely we're better
than that!

("But they're just words.  They have no power unless you give them
power."  O naive child!  The fantasy books have this truth in them:
words have a terrible power.  One man with words can heal nations
... or kill millions.  An Irish bardic satire can flay.  Even
unskilled I have wounded people deeply.  Or, as for me, words can
erode thru a thick hide down to the living nerves.)

I'm sick and tired.  Literally.  I've been unable to get to sleep
before 3-4AM two night running, because my mind has been over-revving
over the bad manners and evident stupidity on this list.  (Reading
e-mail in the evening is a Bad Thing for me.)  I haven't gotten the
sleep I need to get over this respiratory thing.  My real-world work
has suffered.

Honest to God, I *try* to be a harmless good-humored jokester --
surely people have seen that in my messages in the past?  Instead I'm
Tadhging out into a humorless hectoring bore.

Gresham's Law, "Bad money drives out good", applies to e-mail and
Usenet too: in an unmoderated forum with newbies pouring in and
unwilling or unable to get clues, bad posters drive out good and bad
topics drive out good.  I've seen it in Usenet and I'm seeing it here.
Think whatever you will about me, but I hope you'll agree the list
lost some valuable people recently.

So if you have a heraldic question, know that I *always* love to talk
heraldry.  E-mail me at tmcd at crl.com if you wanna talk shop,
especially if you have a question about submissions.  Since I agreed
to help with Southern regional heraldry, I'll remain on the Southern
list until the marching morons come tramping in twelve by twelve.

There are pearls on this list.  Aquilanne and Lyonel.  Pug.  Gunnora!
Stefan.  Gio.  Other names that will come to me in just moments.
Nevertheless, old Pug Gervase has a farm, pug at pug dot net; the
pearls are before swine, and the grunting mindless swine are churning
their filth into the air.

Daniel de Lincolia, now a Tadhged-out humorless hectoring boor --
but not a boar, I hope -- and recovering soon, I *devoutly* hope
-- 
Tim McDaniel.   Reply to tmcd at crl.com;
    if that fail, tmcd at austin.ibm.com is my work account.

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