Christmas Day is here.
My heart grows tender with childhood memories and love of my kindred creatures. A fairly ugly and spindly creature the other 364 days of the year.
But this is Christmas, a good time for kindling the flame of hospitality; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; with peace on earth, good will to men, and womyn, and the good folks of the bear community.
So I will celebrate a happy, happy Christmas, answer a Yuletide question, and remember old friends. For it might be pleasant to readers to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, blind men see, and dunces think.
So let me start with the intelligent Sherizzy, a commenter here since Christmas 2020. He writes of a fellow commenter, Bangkok, who has been commenting here since Christmas 2018.
Bangcock = Frank.
Worst kept secret, Frank.
Sherizzy, your comment yields me pleasure. Bangkok is one of the best comedians I have ever never met.
But I deny it. I am not Bangkok! But I cannot prove who he is. So how do I prove he is not me? I cannot even prove you, Sherizzy, are not me. Only you and I know.
I watch my friend BK deny he is Chet Hardin. Some people believe others don’t. If I were BK but not Chet Hardin, I would be flattered to be thought to be Chet.
Similarily, Sherizzy, I am flattered that you think I’m Bangkok.
Yes, it is a fascinating aspect of the brave new world of anonymous online publishing: Can one be an anonymous celebrity and purport to deliver the news? And be a trusted source?
Are we to accept the ethicist’s standard that we must respect a person’s anonymity? And to out them is immoral?
Am I willing to consider the needs and desires of online trolls, to remember the weaknesses and loneliness of those nobody listens to when they know who they are?
Anonymous trolls take their chance at importance and may spare the good people who know them the awkward embarrassment of telling them they’re stupid and unimportant.
A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous ass to all who know him becomes a righteous social justice warrior once he hides his name and adopts a moniker.
Bishop Nicholas of Myra took the moniker of Santa Claus, and now he gets tremendous credit for things he actually never does.
Should I allow trolls to make a home on Frank Report for their ugly thoughts, a garden for their unfriendly feelings, with the gate open for them to take a dump and fertilize the garden?
Sure, why not?
No, I do not think you hate me, Sherizzy, as Bangkok claims.
If I met you, we might sing Christmas songs and live in the Christmas spirit. I would never wish you ill, even in jest.
So merry Christmas, Sherizzy, may your New Year dreams come true.
And Bangkok, too, I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, nothing like the meretricious and happy new year you had in 2022.
And because I keep the genial flame of charity in my heart, I want to say Merry Christmas to Nice Guy, Shadow State, Aristotle’s Sausage, WTF, Ice Nine, Patriot God, Kevin, Gastone Porter, StevenJ, Nutjob, Peaches, Peter Longworth, Pyriel, Tenzin, Alex, NFW, Julia, Natasha, Steve Dembo, Ermma Gerd, Davey Boy, El Ciclón y la Araña, M. Novak, Cui Bono? Benji Carver, Erasend, Colonel James Ludlow, AI, Snorlax, Scott Johnson, Larry Tate, Orange County Dreams, Lieutenant Commander Data, Suzanna, Truth Teller, Ann Lee, Beth, Zebra, Mm, Fairgamed Educo Nobody, Pinky, Ben, Rock Around The Block, My2cents, Just sayin’, Jane, Retired Appellate Counsel, FYI, Marc Idiott, Alanzo, Diane Lipson, Clifton Parker, Le’Gal, Gdogs cat, LaLaLad and so many others, most of whom use no name at all.
You help make Christmastime a season of merriment and carefree joy.
And, of course, to those readers who never comment, may we find the magic of the season throughout the year.
I started seven years and six thousand stories ago. FR had a mission, and we had a few successes, but it has always been a magical celebration, and Christmastime makes it even more beautiful.