Let’s All Kill Whales Really, Really Loudly

See, this post isn’t even close to what you think it’s about. But using a blog post title like, “You’re a Fucking Fucktard, and Your Offspring Are Fucktards, Too,” isn’t really all that good for your rankings in the search engines. It’s really, really a bad SEO move. So I decided to type something about loud-assed whales.

There’s this news story circulating on the internet about a Canadian woman who shoved a typewritten note under her neighbor’s door, complaining in a rather non-sensitive way about the autistic boy who lived there during the summer. The nicest thing this letter had to say was that the grandmother should “donate all his non-retarded body parts” before they had the autistic boy put to sleep. Yes, like a mangy dumpster dog who’s missing an eye and pukes his own blood.

The outcry was loud, with many calling for an outing of the woman’s identity. And I kind of want her head on a pike in my front yard, too, but not for the reasons most people might think. Yes, I have an autistic daughter, but no, I really wish I could honestly say this is the very first time EVER that a dipshidiot said something nasty about handicapped people. My real problem with this woman goes far, far deeper.

She’s into dead whales.


Clearly, she indicates that the boy is guilty of “noise polluting whaling.” So it would be okay to bludgeon any whales that came up in the family’s yard as long as he did it quietly? Dead whales=good, being loud about killing whales=bad?

Now, as a college educated adult, I feel fairly confident that she meant “wailing.” I’ll let that slide. What I cannot overlook is the blatant abuse of grammar in this letter. Of course, the content of the message indicates that she should be forced to choke on her own uterus, so I shouldn’t be very surprised by the complete massacre of grammar conventions in the note. It was lovely of her to soften the blow of her letter by using pink paper, though, but I’m afraid it’s all she had left after making her “God Hates Fags” signs for her church.

This post dedicated to Sherry Fraser Snider, writer extraordinaire, who publicly called me out for not jumping on this story yesterday. She was saddened to think that I was quietly letting it go, but as anyone who’s known me for more than a minute and a half already knows, I am incapable of both “quiet” and “letting it go.”