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The Dark Side of the Internet
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How
I Became a 1980's Sorority Slut
One of the
Internet's greater seductions is that people who are perfectly lovely in their
day-to-day lives can explore their Shadow Self online, be it kinky, or racist,
or aggressively hostile.
That sweet
9-to-5 administrative assistant? You know: the one who organizes
all of the birthday parties in the office, buying
the cake, getting you to sign the card? She could very well be the
psychotic Neo-Nazi that you came across in the YouTube comments section, writing
horrible things that left you shaking your head in
disgust.
The world
doesn't contain enough outwardly mean people to account for all of the toxic
nutbags one runs across online. So you can never really be sure of
anybody.
I am not
immune. My Shadow Self is, I think, pretty fair-minded, but really flowers
when doing online impersonations. And I'm not just talking
Sarah Pew, either.
This story
begins on a largely gay online discussion board that I shall not name. On
this board, a third of the posters are deeply funny and perceptive.
Another third are engaging enough. And the last third are trolls -- Shadow
Selves run rampant -- who are forever infighting, making up improbable scenarios while claiming
they're real, and generally being a drag on the other two-thirds. But the trolls
don't fully kill the vibe, and the discussion can be breathtakingly funny.
I will not
name this board because I've been a topic of discussion on it before, and it's
only a matter of time before I come up again. Recently, somebody there
posted a pic of me at the Tony Awards, wearing my wool suit in the summer heat,
sweating like I was on a heavy detox, looking dazed and alarmed after speaking
in front of all of Radio City Music Hall and whoever was watching on television.
The comment on my picture read: "Jeff Whitty looks like the emaciated
half-aborted lovespawn of Dracula and Casper the friendly ghost, dying of
consumption."
I
could call
him a jerk. I could lambaste him for mocking my evanescent moment
in the public eye.
But the problem is: he was
spot-on!
Anyway, on this discussion board, someone called attention to a
far-out Christian website with an article entitled: "POST
A SIN."
"If
you, or someone you know, has broken one of the Lord’s Commandments this week,
you are encouraged to post the nature of the sin and the name of the sinner
here, so that we may all join in prayer for their salvation."
The website is so
Born-Again Christian psychotic it might be parody, but the commenters take it
quite seriously. I'm changing the names a smidgen here because I could
very well get sued, so nasty are some of the posts!
"Jennifer Grangel for lying to her mother about not
having premarital sex. Thomas Schneiderman, for having premarital sex with
Jennifer Grangel. Hilda Grangel for intentionally misleading her friends
into thinking that her daughter was deserving of a $2,500 Christian Student
college scholarship. My hairdresser, M,B. who is living in sin with her
boyfriend.
"T.S., B.W., P.B, and J.H., for continuing to live in
the homosexual lifestyle. Kelly Landon for the sin of murder by abortion.
Frank Bryan for taking the Lord’s name in vain.
Rebecca Lynne Haines-Crockerton, for lying about getting
caught cheating on an algebra exam.
"Please pray for my boss, Dave Diaz. He is unfaithful
to his wife when we go out of town on business. He hires women from the Internet
to come to his hotel room.
"Myself, for almost saying a curse word in traffic this
morning. Thankfully, I caught myself before I said it. It is a sin nonetheless.
"All of the sodomites, abortionists, Liberals,
Atheists, Pseudo-Chrisitans (sic) who refuse to accept Jesus Christ as their
personal savior."
Who ARE these people,
posting so nastily about their sinful neighbors? Am I so enclosed in my
debauched New York gay lifestyle that I'm completely out of touch with the way
people are in this country?
But I must remind myself
to hold on -- for all I know, the person writing the posts could be my
boyfriend Steve.
For some reason it was a
post by "Nancy Gamrick" that got me fired up:
"Nancy Gamrick says:
The worst sinner I know is
Maureen Karr (class of 80). I went to Duke with her. She allowed
herself to be debased by many men. Even blacks. And in the rear.
I’ve prayed for her ever since. I don’t know if she wound up on the
streets or a successful business woman, but she is a sinner. I only hope
she repented."
People like Nancy Gamrick
drive me insane! Self-satisfied, smug people who are clearly party-killers
-- and racist to boot. And besides, that Maureen Karr sounds like a lot of
fun. She resembles many of my friends, actually.
So I decided to post as
Maureen Karr, in her defense.
"Maureen Karr says:
Nancy, how dare you post
these things about me? I have a “Google Alert” for my name, and lo and behold I
got a message saying I had a new Internet entry — so here I am. Well, Nancy,
let’s not begin to talk about your self-righteousness, which is also, I believe,
a sin. And as I recall, the 'black' that you refer to is one that YOU “coveted”
back in the day, and were insanely jealous about! I did not do it with him 'in
the rear' as you declare, but I did all sorts of OTHER things with, in a manner
I will be happy to describe to you if you ever dare to call me. Which I doubt
will happen. You put the 'cow' in 'cowardly.'
"I’ll give you, Nancy, exactly 24 hours to not only
recant but apologize, or otherwise, I will blow your cover entirely. And you
KNOW I have the goods on you, sister. You know I have the goods.
"Sincerely, Maureen."
I felt so
much better after that. And then, thrillingly, Nancy
replied!
"Nancy
Gamrick says: Maureen, I am not surprised that you watch your
reputation like hawk. If I had done the things you did, I would too!
I just want you to know that I am not going to address your denials. Lies are
your bread and butter. It is almost nostalgic to read them!
"I will say, however, that you were very rude to a lot of us girls. You walked
around like your shit didn’t stink! But I knew what a whore you were. AND SO DID A
LOT OF OTHER PEOPLE. How many guys in BOG did you blow — and they weren’t even a
real frat! In fact, I am rather glad you saw my post. I want you to know
that your snottiest hurt my feeling and a lot of other girls who were really
great people.
"I had hoped that you had
repented, but it is clear from you post that you are still a slut in denial.
I will pray for you! I mean that sincerely. I have gotten over my
hatred of you. But I can’t say that other members of our class have.
I doubt they have, but I will do the Christian thing and forgive you."
Now please
let us regard this
sentence: "I had hoped that you had repented, but it is clear from you post that
you are still a slut in denial. I will pray for you! I mean that
sincerely."
Funny, isn't it, how
forgiveness can be used as a blunt-edged weapon?
Anyway, the more Nancy
vents, the more I like Maureen. What a fun-loving minx she must have been,
blowing countless guys at "BOG" -- which isn't even a real frat!
How dare Nancy call her a snob!
All right, this was
the time to go deep.
 "Maureen
Karr says: Oh spare me your mean Christianity, Nancy. As far as me
being 'on the streets or a successful businesswoman,' I’ll have you know that I
am typing this in the hot tub in the Roman-style bathhouse on the 19-room
plantation that I share with my husband, Giorgio, and our three children, whose
names I won’t mention lest you begin praying for them. Giorgio is in the other
room opening me a bottle of wine — of only the finest vintage. Hope I don’t get
the laptop wet in this hot tub! Oh, well, we can afford to buy another.
"My life is filled with friends and fun. How sad for
you that you’ve had to turn to God in order to justify your nastiness, and to
soothe your 27-year-old 'hurt feelings.'
"I won’t give in to my threat to catalog what I know
about you, Nancy, because I don’t want to be mean.
"Most sincerely yours — oh, thank you, Giorgio, honey —
come on in, the water’s fine. Sorry, Nancy, what was I saying? Giorgio, don’t —
that tickles!
"Maureen."
When I hit "Post Comment"
on that, I could almost hear Nancy's shrieks, shrill and piercing like
the Dark Riders of "The Lord of the Rings."
But Nancy wasn't stripped
of ammo. Not by a long shot:
"Nancy Gamrick says:
Maureen, my goodness, it
certainly doesn’t surprise me to hear that you are in a 'hot tub.'
Remember when they Delts had the ski party and you had a drunken little
“accident” in the hot tub at the hotel? I only wish I had been there to see it!
I admit — I only heard about it the next morning. But that doesn’t mean I don’t
still laugh thinking about it.
"You think you are taunting me with you post, but it is
doing just the opposite. But, as usual, you don’t realize it. You still sound
smug and superficial — the two things that made everyone I knew at Duke hate
you. I guess you are still hated by the people who come in contact with you.
And, as usual, you are completely oblivious!
"You can sneer all you like — it was what you were best
at — but I’m laughing, too. And my laughs are genuine, not defensive shields
because someone has seen through my shallowness!
"Hope you finally find some real happiness."
What I find most
frustrating about Nancy is the way she says something vile, only to follow it by
a comment like "Hope you finally find some real happiness."
She continues:
"Maybe you have changed. The
Maureen I knew was all about marrying rich. Remember how you went after Robert
when you heard about Food Lion? And now, here you are, happily married to a
Mexican. I wish you both (and your children, who I am sure are beautiful) all
the blessing that life can provide."
I do have do give Nancy
credit for the honeyed "happily married to a Mexican" line, though she still
loses points in the long run for her vile racism.
At this point, the
playwright in me was getting tired of the back-and-forth bitchery. We were
entering Act Three, and the audience needed a good shaking-up. We needed
not merely a shift in tactic or situation, but a complete re-evaluation of the
given reality.
So:
"Maureen Karr writes:
Well, I’ve had half
a bottle of wine, so forgive me whatever Lord there is for what I’m about to
post. But it’s the damned truth.
"I am a liar. I am not married to a man named Giorgio.
I do not have a happy life. Period. It’s a miserable existence. My excessive
drinking has, at least I believe it has, brought on diabetes and I suffer every
day for it. I have no children, and am now very nearly past the point when I
will ever be able to have biological children at all. I do love children.
Whatever you may remember about me, Nancy, there’s that fact.
"I am twice divorced and very alone. I have a job in
real estate, but I’m not even an agent — I just do the clerical work. I get by,
enough to get a drink with my girlfriends every now and then, but that’s about
it. I have nothing to look forward to, no savings, and I am in terror about
getting any older.
"Nancy, I hate to think that this will bring you
satisfaction, but I know it will. And this makes me wonder about you and the God
you worship. You strike me as even more selfish than I was as a younger person.
You may work serving God and working in a Christian school, but your pettiness
makes me feel terrible. It makes me feel terrible because I know that my
suffering will bring you pleasure. I shouldn’t be writing this. I shouldn’t be
writing this because I know it will give you a chance to pretend to be kind and
forgiving, but all that you will be doing is making yourself feel superior. So
spare me. Spare me, and whatever loons have found their way to this insane
website. You do realize, Nancy, that you’re a loon to post here and pretend
you’re anywhere near Christ?
"Nancy, your life is no better than mine. No better
than anybody’s. Not even a Mexicans, or a black persons, or a slut like me. I
should say “ex-slut” because, well, them’s the facts.
"I don’t know what to say to people like you. That’s
why I pretended like I was happy. But the fact of life is, I’m not. And if I die
and go to the Pearly Gates, that’s what I’ll do my best to say — I was honest
about my life considering what I was given. I hope, Nancy, that you will be able
to do the same.
"That’s all. I’m not interested in your reply. I
pray to whatever god there is to give me the strength to not even check.
Maureen."
And: blackout.
End of play.
I don't know what anyone
else may think, but I felt that was pretty devastating!
But that dad-blamed Nancy:
"Nancy Gamrick writes:
Maureen. I was
tearing up reading your post. I am so glad you have chosen to be honest. It is
the only way to approach Him for forgiveness.
"How hurtful that you think I would take pleasure in
your horrible, sad life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m praying
for you. And just got of the phone with your Kappa sister Margaret Mabood,
telling her of your unhappiness, and she has promised to keep you in her
prayers, too. No matter what you have done to people in the past, there
are folks who are wishing you well. I know. I am one of them.
"In His Name, Nancy."
First response:
Oops! I didn't consider that Nancy might still be a degree of separation
away from Maureen. Let's hope Margaret Mabood keeps her trap shut!
Or maybe -- maybe it'll be better because Nancy will realize she was conned.
I felt utterly trumped by her last post. There's a streak of Christian
smugness and self-satisfaction -- not all Christians, by any means -- that is
nearly impossible to get past because the Christian is forever a step closer to
God than you are. And because that's all they have, they'll defend it at
any cost.
I wanted TEARS from Nancy
Gamrick! Instead, I think I made her day.
In retrospect, I'm not
proud for walking around in Maureen Karr's skin for a night. The cafeteria
Buddhist in me just stares blankly at such behavior. And Nancy seems she
just might be, well, a suffering person (I will not add "I'll pray for her").
And frankly: Nancy was posting under her real name, while I was a mid-thirties
male portraying a late-forties ex-sorority girl from Duke University.
But then again, who's to
say, in this Internet world of Shadow Sides unearthed, that Nancy wasn't, say,
some 26-year-old Pinoy male, in reality? Or somebody else? Someone
-- someone close to me, say?
Hold on a sec. I'll
be right back.
Steve? Steve, is
that you, typing in the other room?
(The offstage typing
stops. A long moment passes. Blackout.)
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