I Wish I Could Say I was Outraged

26. March, 2008 | by John Moroney |

Oddly enough, I have been the subject of gossip. Over the years, I have heard so many terrible things about myself that I giggle at my own wickedness. None of the rumors are true, of course. The things I have done are actually far worse than the things that I haven’t done.

Gossips are like mortally wounded kittens, kittens torn open and crazy with pain, covered with their own blood and feces of dying; with their itty little hooked claws of “Did you hear?” and their bitty little milk teeth of morally righteous indignation, they are going to do their damnedest to hurt somebody on their way out. However, the only people they can hurt with their ineffectual little intents are other wounded kittens; lions infrequently notice the attacks of the mewling helpless.

Gossips are those about whom no one would ever gossip. Why? They never do anything interesting enough to warrant conversation! Indeed, if anyone ever mentions their names at all, the sentences are always spoken with slowly shaking heads and tsk-tsks of pity. We would all like to help the gossip, of course, but what does one do with such a damnably pathetic creature? Is it better to try to nurse the kitten back to health or simply put it down? Which is the most humane way of dealing with the so-obviously inhuman?

The best defense against gossip is never to engage in it. During a conversation with you, when someone lowers his voice and says through a conspiratorially lowered chin, “Did you hear about So-and-so?” politely say, “Excuse me,” and leave the company of this person. If someone asks you for information on another, say, “I have So-and-so’s number right here on my phone. Let me give it to you so you can get your information from the source.” Never divulge anything about another human being; even the most insignificant bit of drunken drivel can be sharpened enough to hurt someone. (Indeed, oatmeal on it’s own is perfectly harmless; so is paper. In prisons, however, they are combined to create a papier–mâché stiletto.)

So, if you feel the need to talk about me, please, by all means, go ahead. I like it! After all, any publicity at all, even bad publicity, is good publicity.