Dooce.com has given me a lot of laughs over the years, and it's one of the few weblogs I have made a point to visit every day. But lately I just can't get past how much Heather bashes her husband, and with increasing viciousness. Today's post was the last straw. (I'm intentionally not linking.)

There's clearly a lot of anger being sublimated into the blog, because she can't seem to make any casual mention of the man without a cutting remark. Even the recent post about Father's Day, which contains the only nice thing she's said about him for months, was undercut with nastiness. Go back and read old posts from happier times in their marriage; she pays him emphatic compliments, and when she does joke at his expense you can tell it's affectionate kidding.

I have little taste for women who emasculate their men with jokes (ask the last woman who made fun of me), and when the jokes pass for veiled hostility as they do here, I definitely want no part of them. I don't want to give up on one more blog, but I can't go on reading.


Four Replies to Goodbye Dooce

Anna Gregoline | June 27, 2007
I know what you mean. She seems like she needs a meds adjustment, or perhaps a different line of therapy because everything is a complaint, there seems to be no joy at all.

I dislike her for a multitude of reasons, but I used to enjoy her blog - not so much these days.

Lori Lancaster | June 27, 2007
[hidden by author request]

Jackie Mason | June 29, 2007
[hidden by author request]

Anna Gregoline | June 29, 2007
I'm kind of rolling my eyes at her cancer growths. She's had to have several moles removed. No other therapy mentioned, that I've seen. While not the most fun thing (I did it this year), it's not as dramatic as she makes it out to be.

Am I too harsh? I don't know. When you put your life on the internet as a spectacle to make money, I start to feel like I am allowed to be a bit judgmental.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

The Tiger

This is the second of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon. Last week, I wrote about my liver disease, which doesn't have any direct, detectable signs. It's not as if I feel any pain in my liver, or that I can sense that it's not working in the same way that I could tell right away if, say, my eyes stopped working or my lungs stopped working. Go »

No R'lyeh, I'm Not a Fan

I never thought of myself as a fan of H.P. Lovecraft. I don't think I've read more than a couple of his short stories. Go »

This is Me Getting On With My Life

Any advice for a newly single guy? After five months, Denise and I are no longer seeing each other. I won't get into the causes out of respect for her point of view; let's just say she and I each wanted the other to behave differently and it wasn't going to happen. Go »

A Fib

I wish the title was "a fib" as in a lie. But no, it's "A Fib" as in atrial fibrillation. That's a heart condition in which the upper part of your heart doesn't keep a rhythm. Go »

OK Glass

Last weekend, Kelly and I drove up to St. Petersburg with friends to see Ira Glass present a one-man stage show explaining how he makes This American Life on the radio. I had no prior familiarity with his work, having not heard the radio show unlike the fans that I went with, but I think it's long past time that I started listening to the celebrated series online. Go »

Pandora

[This post wound up being very long-winded and self-absorbed, but that's what blogs are for, I guess.] For years, I've gotten increasingly picky about how I listen to music. Sometimes I just want to listen to everything I have on shuffle, but sometimes I want to get more specific like only music from one genre on shuffle or all songs by one artist in chronological order, and sometimes I want to get really specific, like songs about dreams or artists from Michigan or recordings featuring violins. Go »