Dear Author Margo,
I keep tabs on some of my favorite authors. One, in particular, documents his life in excruciatingly personal detail via his blog and Twitter feed. He shares information about everything from break-ups to bathroom habits. I’ve stopped reading his books because of this, but I can’t seem to stop myself from keeping up with the train wreck that is his life. What’s wrong with me?
Dear Self-Abusing Anonymous Internet Indulger,
With the advent of all manner of instantaneous ways to share each and every thought as it occurs, authors get to do what they love to do and that is type. And guess what? Some of authors (as in most) are their very most favorite subject to type about. Some type about their dog’s adorable antics, or who they had lunch with and what they ate. Your particular author likes to share wads of his extra-special spunk with the whole of the Internet.
Now when I type spunk I mean spunk, S-P-U-N-K, as in the biological stuff bodies emit when something really intimate has reached its culmination. Usually, spunk is exchanged on a consensual basis between two people, more if you live in certain suburbs around the nation where swinging is popular, or after a solo act. But in all those cases, everyone in the vicinity knows that spunk will be coming.
Yes, I'm saying that some forms of blogging, twittering, photo posting, etc, are the equivalent of spunking. You’re conflicted about it because you’re essentially aiming your face in the direction of his oncoming electronically delivered spunk by peeking through a hole in the wall (the Internet). Getting an eyeful of someone’s lack of professional restraint is messy business. That you keep going back for more and more is just ick. (Ick, by the way, is a word that originated in an ancient Scandinavian city-state where answering “How are you?” with anything but "Fine, thank you" is tantamount to turning an innocuous greeting into a full-fledged therapy session.)
Worse, you're probably guilty of re-spunking by talking about this author’s foibles with others who made the mistake of asking “How are you?” That's worse. It's not even your spunk you're spunking. You’re a re-spunker which ick in any language.
So, yes, there is something wrong with you. You either quit this author full stop or learn to live with your shame which you should keep secret for now on.
Next week: The Eat or Be Eaten Question