The post I wrote recently about a certain little relative of mine meeting a certain nominee for the Vice President of United States whose child just happens to possess the same disability as my little relative — how’s that for deliberately convoluted?? — is now password protected.
It was bound to happen. When I first posted it, oh, two weeks ago, I had not the slightest inkling that anyone beyond my regular readers would find it interesting. Really. I asked permission to post it from the only relatives who know about this blog (and who no longer read, btw, through mutual agreement, for those of you who know what I’m talking about here). I thought it was worth posting, but I did not in any way imagine it would get, like, a jillion hits in just a couple days. It literally FREAKED me out because privacy is an issue for me here. I have what I would call a modest following here at Thee Olde Pale and I’m okay with that for a variety of reasons. So I debated taking the post down — basically instantly — but my relatives were happy to have the story out. Thanked me, even, because they thought it was important. I don’t think I deserve that kind of credit or thanks, really. I was torn, but left it up for a while. After a couple of days, though, I shut the comments down. Stuff like that can really bring out the abusive cynical jerks and it began to feel like managing and/or deleting their offensive comments was becoming a full-time job. In the last few days, I’ve noticed that people have accessed the post through email — meaning the link is now being emailed all over the place, I guess. Gulp. Scary for me. Who knows whose email inbox it could end up in? I’ve done all the blocks I can think of on people who personally know me, so hopefully, I’m safe there. But there are always variables to fret about.
I shouldn’t have posted it, probably, but it was a spontaneous emotional decision. I’m happy people are moved by it; on the other hand, it’s risky for me. And not in some grand heroic way — please, not that at all — but in an impulsive, careless way.
So, if you want to read that post, email me for the password. And please be polite in doing so. I’ve had some wankers email me whining about having to ask for a password. That doesn’t exactly bewitch me, people. I refuse to give passwords to Rudy Rudesters. There’s been open access o’plenty for the past two weeks — and other, much larger blogs have posted the story, too — but now I need to clamp down a bit. If you’re new to the blog, just trust me when I say I have good reasons. I wasn’t wise with this whole thing. I admit it. Lesson learned.