Okay everybody, let’s all just calm down. So I made a mistake. One, teensy-weensy blooper. You’d think the entire Catholic blogosphere never saw an error before, the way everybody’s talking about my big blunder yesterday. Harping on it. Balking about it. Frankly, the hoopla has been way overdone.
If you’ve been spending your time under a rock these days, you might not know that I accidentally referred to yesterday as the feast of the Annunciation, which is wrong, wrong, wrong. I know perfectly well that it was the feast of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. But from the resulting brouhaha, you’d think I’d declared that I hated kittens wearing mittens, or that I’d gone and married a vampire and turned into a vampire myself and had a baby vampire who I confusingly married off to my best friend and that we all lived eternally ever after without making one single sacrifice like memorable characters are supposed to do.
Actually I might be exaggerating slightly. About the brouhaha, I mean. The truth is, no one’s called me out. In fact, although this blog had one of its most popular days yesterday (possibly because I trumpeted my own error from the blogging rooftops in a mad effort to head off the public consternation and hand-wringing), no one said anything. No snarky comments, no soapbox fights, no dire predictions about the planet’s imminent collision with Nibiru. Things were pretty quiet, in fact. Dead quiet, actually. Either readers missed my faux pas (highly doubtful), or they’re too polite to call me out. I think it’s the latter. You are kind, peaceable folk who don’t need to show off your holy-day-of-obligation smarts. You’re good people. Friendly people. For that, I thank you, because I’m one of those people who don’t enjoy being the brunt of bluntness. To quote the immortal Michael Scott of The Office, “Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like this compulsive need to be liked, like my need to be praised.”
Not that I need praising, but it really would be nice to hear a few peeps now and then from you. So last night I did some exhaustive scientific research into how to get readers talking. The result of my analysis (which consisted primarily of asking my husband what he thought) is that I haven’t made any ground rules for you. So here we go. Here are some commenting rules for this blog:
- Snarkiness and sarcasm are okay, as long as none of it is directed at, well…me.
- Most any topic is open, except maybe the ending of Breaking Dawn. Also politics. (I have two teenagers, so my blood pressure is high enough already.)
- And just for this week, if Angels fans want to chew me out because I’m celebrating C.J. Wilson slightly more than Albert Pujols, I’ll probably put you on moderated status. (Seriously though. We needed more help on the mound, didn’t we?)
So those are my simple rules. Pretty easy, right? Or maybe not. Oh heck, I don’t care. Just feel free to say whatever you feel like. No pressure. Anything you want. As long as it isn’t vulgar or mean. Or about Jacob imprinting on…ew…a certain vampire baby.