Moderating comments

On the whole, I think moderating comments works well. For one thing, no house cleaners in Iowa comment on my ideas, which is on the whole a good thing. Another good thing--someone linked to a blog which is obsessed with what my grandson would have called doody and I erased it without a qualm.

The best kind of comments are favorable. If you disagree with me, try to be polite, at least. Telling me what a contemptible person I am is unlikely to change my views, nor is calling me a dirty Jew. Why would I publish nasty unpleasant comments? I myself only read blogs the authors of which are witty and funny or agree with my ideas, which makes them witty and funny. I don't pay much attention to those who have different opinions, as my mind is made up already about a great many things.

But someone made a point of disagreeing with me about the New York Times and its celebration of those who wish to save the planet. Their pretentiousness made me want to go out and burn some tires, just out of spite.

Actually, I don't get much pleasure out of squandering electricity or gas. Would I hang my newly washed clothes on a clothesline? No. Would I turn off the refrigerator, putting my eggs and milk outside in winter? Again, no. I believe all these conveniences exist because they are--erm, convenient. And there is no way I would plunder someone else's garbage--that's nasty.

I'm not going to put myself out because I have lived long enough to learn something I didn't know when I was young. Here it is: You can buy anything, gas, electricity, refrigerators, cars, houses. All you need is money, which you can get if you want it badly enough. The one thing you can't purchase at any price is time. And time goes by swiftly. Where, for instance, are the snows of yesteryear?

Instead of wasting my time over something which makes no difference at all in the great scheme of things--contra Al Gore, I don't feel responsible for global warming--I would rather spend my allotted hours reading, blogging, listening to music, playing with my grandson, or just hanging out.