Rights

There was a post on Raymi’s blog the other day, where she put up one of the scathing comments that someone had submitted. But then the comments for that blog entry turned into a huge discussion about the fact that the comments on Raymi’s site are “moderated”. That means that Raymi has to approve any comment, before it shows up on the blog for the public to see.

The reason it became such a discussion is that people don’t like that moderation thing. They want to be able to post what they want, when they want, without being censored, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, pseudo free-speech gobbledygook this, and “I should be able to say whatever I want” that. All of the usual garbage that people with too much time on their hands say, when they feel that their rights are being trampled upon. (Where “rights” are defined as “whatever I want to do”.)

The funniest part about the discussion is that Raymi never doesn’t post a comment; she put that feature up because of something to do with her mom—who reads her blog—but she approves all comments, positive or negative, that people post. (Well, maybe not her mom’s; I didn’t really catch that part.) It may not show up instantly, since Raymi probably doesn’t sit by the computer 24/7 waiting to approve comments, but it will go up.

But it also raised the usual questions (in my head, anyway) about who’s blog is it? Raymi’s, or the people who read it? And, as usual, my opinion is that it’s Raymi’s, no question. Px (Raymi’s partner) raised the excellent point that it’s a blog, not a democracy; raymitheminx.blogspot.com isn’t a “forum”, or a “discussion board”; it’s a personal expression of Raymi. If she doesn’t want to allow comments—and she does turn them off, sometimes, something that I’m often tempted to do, as well—then deal with it. If you don’t want to read it, feel free to leave.

I don’t know why it bugs me so much, but people often feel that they have “rights” that they don’t really have. “I should have the right to do whatever I want!” No you shouldn’t, moron, and the fact that you feel that way is, in my mind, one of the reasons that you shouldn’t be able to do whatever you want. You’re obviously a selfish prick, and need to be controlled. Maybe even with medications. Or one of those electric shock collars.

Does this post seem cynical? Oh well. I’ve gone to all the trouble of typing it; it would be a shame not to post it now…