Congratulations, IV Words; the blog has officially “arrived.”
You know what you’re writing on the blog is striking a chord when the haters come out. Like this guy, who resides in north-central Minnesota:
“It’s too bad all your mothers didn’t get government funded (sic) abortions…”
I have no idea what the run-on of “some people did something” is supposed to mean, but the first part of his love note is fairly clear. He wishes me dead. And not just me, but some unidentified others, too. I’m assuming he was referring to people who participated in #FMClimateStrike21, which took place just the previous afternoon and which I promoted here on IV Words in advance. But then, you can’t assume anything with ignoramuses; he might have been referring to anyone who doesn’t wear an aluminum-foil hat, for all I know.
Regardless, with a little online digging I was fairly certain of this man’s general area of residence. Paul Bunyan Communications is a small Internet service provider with a limited coverage area. In fact, the company’s services are only available within a handful of Minnesota counties.
A little more searching and I learned there was only one person with the name provided within that service area, and he lives in Bemidji, Minn. A little more yet and I found a Bemidji business connected to that name.
You’ll notice I’ve blocked out the family name and a portion of the email address in the missive above, which came through the “About IV Words” contact form. I’ve done this because of the last time I posted about someone, that time a Minnesota woman who left racist comments on the live, online feedback board of a local TV station as it broadcast a press conference featuring Black people, members of OneFargo, back in the summer of 2017.
Despite the fact that the woman flaunted her racism and shared her name publicly for the whole world to see, Facebook and Twitter both suspended IV Words’ ability to boost posts. The platforms informed me that my blog post identifying the racist woman was an invasion of her privacy.
Not sure how that logic works, seeing as she outed herself live on television, but whatever.
I had to hide the post from public view, but even now I’m not entirely jake in the eyes of the social media platforms police.
So I’m taking precautions this time around.
Back to Mr. You-Should-Have-Been-Aborted.
I called the Bemidji company to find out if a man by that name worked there and was informed that a person with that name once owned the business but was now retired. The guy who took my call offered to get a message to him, so I left my name and number.
Then I called Paul Bunyan Communications to see if it might be of any concern to them that one of their customers is using their service to, essentially, threaten people. I didn’t expect much and wasn’t disappointed in that regard. Paul Bunyan said it didn’t like the fact that the guy did what he did, but that it’s unable to police its users/customers. The company spokesperson suggested I call the real police.
Which I did. After asking me for the threatener’s name, the officer who answered the phone informed me that, if I really felt my life was being threatened, I should call the police in Fargo and the FPD would work with the Bemidji police to initiate an investigation.
Since I don’t really think my life is in any real danger from Mr. Irony, who is likely is a perfect example of an anti-environment, anti-female-reproductive-rights, pro-gun, holier-than-thou voter and typical out-of-shape ugly American, I left it at that.
Then he called back.
I asked if he truly wished my mother had aborted the pregnancy that resulted in my life, if he really wished I were dead. He corrected me, saying I wouldn’t be dead, exactly. “You would never have existed in the first place,” he said, “and that would have been the best thing for the world. Goodbye, Martin.”
He spit my name at me as if it would sting. Again, whatever.
Then he hung up on me, like the weak-ass coward he is.
My hope is the “FUCK OFF!” I screamed into the phone as he rigorously pounded the “End Call” button on his end is still ringing in his ears. But, if not, c’est la vie.
Besides, what he didn’t hear is the “thank you” I muttered for verifying that my efforts are making a difference, even if it’s only irritating jackwagons like himself.
It would be cool to out this neanderthal, to share his name and spread it far and wide in Twitter, Instagram and Facebook posts to make his life uncomfortable, but jerk-offs like him are not worth it.
I will, however, be sending him a link to this post.
Kiss my lily-white ass, Mr. Wingnut, and feel free to send me more fan mail any time. I’ll be more than happy to forward it to the Fargo Police Department on your behalf.