How to be a Fuckwit in the Comments of a WordPress Journal

Being nice is never fun and doesn’t get you laid. As you navigate WordPress, you will undoubtedly feel tempted to make comments about anything and everything. Never resist. Always say exactly what you’re thinking unless it’s something that lacks a certain smack of fuckwittery. Remember: online disinhibition is your friend, and everything that happens behind your monitor is completely invisible to the rest of WordPress. Regardless of how much of an asshole you are, this will not, I repeat, not prevent you from making friends and finding readers.

Phase One

Before commenting, ask yourself one question: “Would I say this in front of grandma?”

  • If you would, Do. Not. Type. It.
  • If your grandma would be disgusted enough to have a stroke, your comment has withstood this litmus test and you may now move onto phase two.

Phase Two

“Why is there always so much fucking crap on WordPress” Every dingletwat comment should always consist of as much assholery as humanly possible, and this is the twit’s motto, a flag that lets bloggers know in advance that they are about to read the comment of a pansy.


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Scaring the Vanillas

Anything for fun in BDSM, right? Whatever gets us off is grand, especially stuff that makes us cooler than the rest of society. F’rinstance, vanillas can’t take pain. They don’t even bask in it. That makes me better than them. Vanillas have missionary sex, which makes me cooler than them, too. Kidnapping role play? It’s not my kink, but if you’re into it, that makes you cooler than me. Domestic abuse role play is even cooler than that, especially when you make me believe that it’s real. Right?

In drug addict circles, this mentality would be called ‘junkie pride’. In any rehab worth its salt, heroin addicts are cooler than pot smokers, who are not as cool as meth heads. Anorexics are cooler than overeaters, and bulimics fall somewhere in between. Junkie pride: I did a gram of heroin a day and all you did was weed, so I have more bragging rights than you. Junkie pride: I was hospitalised and tube fed for my anorexia, and you only reached a size zero, so I’m cooler than you. It’s a thing.

And so it is with the “scaring the vanillas” mentality. You’ve seen it, I’ve seen it: A couple gets its rocks off by doing a dab of capture and conquer in a public parking lot. A masochist gets a giggle out of telling the woman at the checkout counter that her black eye comes from her abusive husband’s bad night out at the pub. The joy community members derive from scaring the vanillas is as nonsensical and potentially harmful as junkie pride.


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The Private Life of Fetlifers

When you make your way through the treacherous forests and cliffs of K&P, the odds of survival are heavily stacked against you.

“Documenting the glory and splendour of K&P is a never-ending delight,“ says David Fettenborough. To preserve all Fetlife members, even those who are less sexy than me, WWF (World Wide Fund for Fetlife) has been generous enough to offer this free survival guide.

The WWF’s Horniest Sexy Guide to Surviving the K&P Underbrush

Always take espresso. You never know when you’ll get stuck on K&P’s sexiest hiking paths and have to spend the night on the peaks of the Horny Mountains. “I bring a preassembled emergency pack,” says Fettenborough as he applies a generous dose of lube to his rather large cock. “I bet you can guess what I keep right at the top of my kit.” Diane Fessey has other ideas: “Always keep a pair of ben wah balls in a zip lock bag. History is riddled with women who didn’t survive because they didn’t have good G-spot attention while fapping to The_Wolf_’s porn. You can read a thousand words without ben wah balls, but you can’t survive a thousand video seconds with nothing but clit stimulation.”


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Put That Advice Down and Step Away from the Hole

Once upon a time, there was a fucking annoying advice-giver who needed a really hard slap (that’s me). Whether my friends had the sads, a fatal illness, alcoholism, or men-issues, I knew what they needed to do. I was one smart life coach/ doctor/ psychologist. I didn’t live happily ever after—one day I was shoved into therapy and learned that I knew nothing whatsoever about how to live my life, let alone anyone else’s.

It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally learned to put down the advice and step away from the hole. I’ve also seen the kind of destruction good-natured instruction can cause. As someone with a chronic illness and psychiatric condition, I have had enough advice thrown at me to build an ark with. The trouble is that ark doesn’t float. Here’s why:

We’re Pros

Those of us with chronic illness, weight issues. or psychiatric disorders have often dealt with them for our entire lives, but let’s be generous and say we’ve had them for 10 years. For us, every single day is spent treating that condition, whether with doctors’ visits, lifestyle choices, meal plans, or medications. We see our doctors, sometimes monthly or weekly. We stay on top of medical trials to watch for upcoming drugs that will come onto the market in the near future. We learn through trial and error what works, in terms of eating and sleeping, to treat ourselves. We see specialists, we know how to interpret our blood tests, we’ve probably tried 80% of the drugs on the market.…are you bored yet? You get the idea. We’ve spent somewhere around 3650 to 15000 days actively involved in treating our conditions. Guess how many hours it takes to become good at something? 15 000. That doesn’t make us doctors, but it does make us pretty clued up about how to take care of ourselves with the help of our specialists. Your one hour spent online or your 200 hours spent with the friend who has the same condition is unlikely to teach you anything we don’t already know. The advice you have to give is almost always something we have already considered, tried, or are planning to use. We try to appreciate the thoughtfulness and care behind your advice, but sometimes it’s hard. Want to know why?

We’re Grownups


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Not Being an Asshole Isn’t Enough

“No one wants a friendly message exchange here. Women need to reconsider what they’re doing at Fetlife. Either open up or leave instead of calling us jerks.” –‘MusicMan’

Dear ‘MusicMan’

This site has four million members, so you have to admit, something odd is happening here. Admittedly, there are a fuckton of posts complaining about asshattery—just about every day K&P has a new piece of snark about how to avoid being an idiot. I’m not too bugged about those jerks you mention because it takes two seconds to delete and block a man who is generous enough to let me know upfront that I needn’t bother digging that hole.

It’s fun to write about asshats, but what I’m really looking at when I receive a message is how many points I can add, not how many I can take away.

Every fuckwit trait displayed in a PM is going to earn a certain number of minus points: Call me baby—10 points off. Tell me your fantasies—100 points lost. Asshole behaviour leaves your tally heavily in debt, but here’s the thing: It’s not enough to avoid asshattery. What I’m looking for in a message is how many points I can add.

I’m not sitting with a calculator doling out points, but in practice, that’s how it works for me. If I spent time getting to know all of the men who messaged me, by the end of the month I’d have 150 to correspond with. It just aint happening, so those I do reply to with any degree of interest have added points, and not just avoided fuckwittery.


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Thoughts of a Fetlifer Visiting Facebook

Oh, look! Facebook still exists! This is going to be awesome!

Meme, meme, ‘nother meme. Ah, here’s a post with real text in it. That’s more like it. Josh has lost his toothpaste. Who tells 300 people that they’ve lost their toothpaste? I have 10 notifications in my Fetlife window. Maybe I should just sneak a look. Nope. Nope. My survival instinct is strong enough to stick this out till the end.

Meme. Meme. ‘Nother meme. Meme of a dude staring at a wall with text that says ‘still more exciting than watching soccer’. Still more exciting than reading your fucking meme, Tom. I mean, Meme Guy’s not even tied to that chair. Now that would be exciting.

Gary’s posted a photograph of his girlfriend. I wonder if he’s under the table with a rabbit vibrator. I wonder if I’m capable of using the internet without thinking about smut.


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Profile of a Fetlife Brat


32F Brat

Orientation: Brat…um…I mean super-obedient true sub.

Is looking for: A spanking

Relationship Status: Being served by CuteScary


About Me

I don’t have too much time to get this profile down. My domme is trying to shove me in the Box of Shame, so I’m hiding in the closet, which is unlikely to last very long. I used to line that box with glitter, but now she’s removed all the glue in the house, so she’s taken away all my fun. Fuck you, CuteScary.

But you want to hear about me, so as it says up there, I’m a brat…I mean true, super obedient sub: sexy, cute, obedient at all times, and, well, really fucking subly. There is not a domme in the world who I would disobey.

My talents include

  • Being able to run around 90-degree corners from the bedroom to the basement in my bobby socks without slipping. (Running and hiding is an act of deep submission.)
  • Wriggling (in a subly way, obviously.)
  • Hiding the cupcakes.

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