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Shel Israel doesn't appear to like me

John Welch–you astound me. What a taseteless, insensitive banal creature you are. Please, do everyone a favor and go slither off into the swamp from whence you came.

Now, I've a problem with this. I'm not banal. And I think Shel's channeling Vizzini in his use of it, to which I'll channel I. Montoya and say "You use that word, but I do not think it means what you think it does". Secondly, Miami is technically not a swamp. It's temperate grassland. Shel's behind on his vocabulary AND geography, but he's been busy promoting himself, so you know, you get busy.

However, the truth is, I'm not that freaked by death itself. I dislike the pain it causes the living, even when it's self-inflicted, and in some ways, I think that because I didn't have to watch a parent slowly slide from a functional human being to a tombstone, I probably had it easier than Robert. What he's going through just blows. But death and dying are a part of life, and they bring life a very important characteristic: a definite end. It is the fact that life will end, and we don't have much control over when or how that makes it precious. I was raised to accept that death is a part of life, and that even when it's the death of someone you love, life goes on. We are but specks in the Universe, and I think that accepting our insignificance, oddly, makes it easier to deal with life's twists. We are not the center of the universe, and bad shit happens to good people, because that's how life works. It sucks, but it's life.

But every once in a while, especially when it's done so absolutely pretentiously, (...the swamp from whence you came. Oh please, I'd pay real money to see Shel put down in the Everglades, which is a pretty wussy swamp. That would be real amusing I bet. Pretentious geek in a swamp. Priceless.), I get this...evil desire to play. Since I don't know, nor do I particularly care about Shel, his feelings matter not.

So here's the deal. Shel, show me you don't just have Intarweb Balls. I'll be in San Francisco from the 5th of August to the 12th of August for the Apple WWDC. Come on down, and repeat what you just said to my face. If you do, I'll buy the beer. Of course, you get to hear the reply that I didn't post on Robert's site, because that would have been as tasteless as you accuse me of being. (Trying to start a personal flame war about a third party on a blog? Tacky Shel, just tacky. Like white after Labor Day. Perhaps thou shouldst cast out the beam in thine own eye before thou pointest out the mote in mine.) No, I'm not gonna hit you or anything stupid like that. I've not been 12 for a long time. I'm just real curious to see if you're that righteous in person is all.

Technorati Tags: Shel Israel, TEH STOOPUD

Categories: Other

Posted by John C. Welch at 00:26 | Permalink

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According to Shel Israel, I'm a proper rotter. No really, he says of me, after I point out to Scoble that no, not everyone who contacts you should be expected to know how you want to be approached during a personal tragedy: John Welch–you astound me. What a taseteless, insensitive banal creature you are. Please, do everyone a favor and go slither off into the swamp from whence you came. Now, I've a problem with this. I'm not banal. And I think Shel's channeling Vizzini in his use of it, to which I'll channel I. Montoya and say "You use that word, but I do not think it means what you think it does". Secondly, Miami is technically not a swamp. It's temperate grassland. Shel's behind on his vocabulary AND geography, but he's been busy promoting himself, so you know, you get busy. However, the truth is, I'm not that freaked by death itself. I dislike the pain it causes the living, even when it's self-inflicted, and in some ways, I think that because I didn't have to watch a parent slowly slide from a functional human being to a tombstone, I probably had it easier than Robert. What he's going through just blows. But death and dying are a part of life, and they bring life a very important characteristic: a definite end. It is the fact that life will end, and we don't have much control over when or how that makes it precious. I was raised to accept that death is a part of life, and that even when it's the death of someone you love, life goes on. We are but specks in the Universe, and I think that accepting our insignificance, oddly, makes it easier to deal with life's twists. We are not the center of the universe, and bad shit happens to good people, because that's how life works. It sucks, but it's life. But every once in a while, especially when it's done so absolutely pretentiously, (...the swamp from whence you came. Oh please, I'd pay real money to see Shel put down in the Everglades, which is a pretty wussy swamp. That would be real amusing I bet. Pretentious geek in a swamp. Priceless.), I get this...evil desire to play. Since I don't know, nor do I particularly care about Shel, his feelings matter not. So here's the deal. Shel, show me you don't just have Intarweb Balls. I'll be in San Francisco from the 5th of August to the 12th of August for the Apple WWDC. Come on down, and repeat what you just said to my face. If you do, I'll buy the beer. Of course, you get to hear the reply that I didn't post on Robert's site, because that would have been as tasteless as you accuse me of being. (Trying to start a personal flame war about a third party on a blog? Tacky Shel, just tacky. Like white after Labor Day. Perhaps thou shouldst cast out the beam in thine own eye before thou pointest out the mote in mine.) No, I'm not gonna hit you or anything stupid like that. I've not been 12 for a long time. I'm just real curious to see if you're that righteous in person is all.

Technorati Tags: Shel Israel, TEH STOOPUD