Judging by the Dooce-Trolling Metric, I’m getting pretty damn famous!
Yeah, I’m still being trolled. Look, folks, for the record, my parents didn’t bankroll my Notre Dame education so I could “peddle yarn” for a living. They didn’t bankroll anything. Ask ’em. I was valedictorian and got a decent size scholarship; I worked full-time jobs every summer and parti-time throughout the year; and I went into debt up to my eyeballs. Every single loan was in my name. (Actually one was co-signed by my aunt – since my parents couldn’t – but I paid that one off in full with my first Christmas bonus in London.) There were times when I didn’t get my grades on time because I was still waiting for the tuition checks to clear. I still owe about thirty grand, and I’m currently paying that off in a country where the exchange rate is really, really shitty. (Getting better, but still shitty.) So call me an expat snob if you must, but a freeloader I am not. And what kind of jerk demeans somebody else’s job and snottily insinuates that they didn’t earn their position in life? I’m just stunned that there are people so petty and vindictive.
Says the Snook, “Tell him to come to Australia. We have beautiful sandy beaches… with lots of sharks… who have a taste for troll.”