It’s pretty safe to say that I’ve done just about every job you can do in my nearly 46 year turn of service, with the exception of working with food (which I resolutely refuse to do). I’ve driven a cab, managed a video store, and mucked stables. I’ve been a stuntman, pool boy, masseur, bodyguard, stage tech, carpenter, mechanic, warehouse manager, reporter, et alad infinitum.  I’ve also (naturally) done my time as a security guard.

One of the things that broke up the tedium inherent in that gig was the guard I spent time with at one particular post. His name was Dan, and he was a cross between Herman Munster, Fred Flintstone, Ralph Kramden and Archie Bunker.

Just let that image simmer for a minute.

He had a particular gift for breaking the English language and inventing words. This was done with no sense of cleverness or irony on Dan’s part; he simply believed the words that came out of his mouth were actual English. One of my favorites was misconstrusion. This was usually part of a rant about how he was going to go quit the job next week because of some imagined slight or insult, to wit, “Monday morning, I’m going in to the dispatch office and I’m gonna tell ’em to take this job and shove it up their ass. They think I’m gonna take this, they got some misconstrusions.”

Much as I hate to say it, I think Dan was onto something. There’s a semantic underpinning to the word I really like; a sense of willful negligence that “misconception” just doesn’t impart. It reminds me of a malaprop committed in a script I once read that had someone being beaten “unmerciously.” It just kinda has a ring to it.

So, as I consider how best to recount a recent festival of misunderstood tweets and subtweets, and the resulting misunderstandings and miscommunication, the only phrase that seems appropriate is to say some people in my online circle have been the victims of their own misconstrusions.

It’s a politically volatile time in the porn business. Like the America that existed in Joe McCarthy’s head, we are currently under attack from without and within, by forces seen and unseen. One of those forces is a rabble-rousing retard who has once again burned every bridge her ever crossed and now sees his volatile mouth and illiterate ranting as his only method of maintaining the tiniest toe-hold at the bottom rung of the only industry that will have him.

Some of you know who I’m talking about. For those who don’t, it’s of no consequence. I’ll call him The Miscreant. He’s someone who swore to destroy my friends & I 12 years ago, and he had a better chance of accomplishing it then. The only way I know about his attacks on me now is when a particular, gossip-obsessed friend feels the need to make me aware, just for the comedy factor.

The Miscreant himself is utterly irrelevant, and his comments are ludicrous and laughable. Just for my own amusement, I tweeted this after his last minor salvo across my broadside:

When the mongoloids, the retards, the absolute worst of the worst decry your actions… you’re doing something right. Praise indeed. ;)

Anonymous subtweet? Sure, but I figured it was pretty obvious to whom it was addressed.

I also, apparently, had some misconstrusions. Four different people — none of them the retard in question — got incredibly offended. One of them — Let’s call him the Wicker Man — went so far as to launch his own Vaguebook tirade…

“I know some real assholes. Real bitter people.. Fuck yer day.
One day when your (sic) all alone and cant (sic) convince young girls to sleep with u.
You will once again regret the path u picked.”

Now, I can’t really argue with this. I admit to being both bitter and an asshole, and I’m becoming completely smitten with The Unicorn, who is less than half my age. The only issue I take is with the concept that I have ever stopped regretting the path I picked, but that’s splitting hairs.

Here’s my thing; my post was insulting The Miscreant for trashing my name. But at least he’s doing it in public. Obviously, the Wicker Man has been going after me behind my back, and thought he’d been caught. So what have you been sayin’ about me… buddy?

This is a tiny business. If you think I won’t find out, well… you got some unmercious misconstrusions.

 

 

ADDENDUM

In the interest of full disclosure, and to give this story another layer, I need to admit that I already knew the Wicker Man had been talking shit about me when I tweeted back at The Miscreant. I knew what WM had said, and when and where he said it. To add some genuine irony, I actually had subtweeted this at the Wicker Man that same morning:

The Hamlet quote, “That one may smile and smile and be a villain,” makes me think of someone I JUST worked with.

Unfortunately, the Wicker Man seems to have completely missed that one. Maybe I should retweet it…

Whatcha think?

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That’s life for you, said McDunn. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving something more than that thing loves them. And after awhile you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can’t hurt you no more. — Ray Bradbury