“Well, thank god that’s over,” Chad said. “Most Valuable Commenter voting got tense this year.”
“Seems to get more tense every year,” Rusty from the hardware store added. “Maybe that’s just because BaT keeps getting bigger.”
“I don’t know. There was an edge to the comments that went along with nominations and voting this time,” Pastor Peterson noted. “Might just be reflective of the world around us. We’ve lost a measure of civility.”
“Thanks, bin Laden,” New Guy said.
“I don’t think it was bin Laden,” Lucinda noted.
It was colder than a well-digger’s arse outside. A cold front blew through Fort Stockton that seemed to cut like a knife. Maybe that’s what brought everybody into the Grounds for Divorce this morning. It was almost standing room only.
“I was glad to see 3PedalOnly win. It was his year,” Rex Hall, the pharmacist, said. “Someone noted you were the only former MVC Winner to vote for him,” he said, looking at me.
“Yep.” Not much else to say about that, really.
“3Pedal makes me giggle,’ Lucinda said.
“So does Delgado,” Sister Thelma noted.
“Not the same.” Lucinda went back to the Bunn-O-Matic to get some fresh Folgers.
“Let me give you my thoughts on the Most Valuable Commenter award,” New Guy said.
“Hold up there, cowboy,” Rusty said. “Let me ask you something first.”
“Sure. What?” New Guy said. I had to chuckle. I just had a feeling.
“A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same thing: Grass.” Rusty said. “Yet, a deer excretes little pellets, a cow turns out big patties. A horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?”
“Well, I have no idea,” New Guy stammered.
“Then you’re really not qualified to be discussing the Most Valuable Commenter award, as you’ve just proven you don’t know shit.”
Lucinda giggled. Pastor Peterson blushed. Sister Thelma looked out the window towards the Piggly Wiggly, but we knew she was laughing.
“What’s the deal with them no longer calling it The Bellcord Award?” Chad asked.
“No idea,” I commented. “But they sent a crew all the way from San Francisco to Fort Stockton pick up the trophy off the mantel at my place, take it out to a specially designed work truck parked out on my driveway and ground “BELLCORD” off of it and replaced it with “MVC”. Said something about ‘cancel culture’ when I went out and asked about it, then forced me back into the house till they were finished.”
“Is that true?” New Guy asked.
“You really don’t know shit, do you?” Chad said. “Ninety percent of what the Captain says is fiction. The percentage is higher if it’s written.”
“What’s the deal with the guy that kept posting all the negative stuff towards Boaboyoz? Seemed kind of hateful, if you ask me.” Sister Thelma seemed concerned.
“He’s the same humgruffin who feels compelled to warn everyone not to make a Vacation reference when a Country Squire is listed, not to mention Back to the Future when a De Lorean is offered, and admonishes the community to not say a word about Seinfeld when a Chrysler LeBarron convertible auction comes up. Like he’s going to send a hit squad to your house if he has to endure a pop culture reference one more time.” Chad said. “Maybe he was appointed Commissioner of Comment Police, and we all just missed the announcement.”
“The irony is that he’s the guy raking poor ol’ Boaboyoz over the coals the worst.” Rusty said. “Talk about the Mustang calling the Shelby a Cobra!” I wasn’t sure I fully understood the automotive reference, but it made me chuckle, nonetheless. Rusty is never one to hold back.
Lucinda was filling up all the CMC mugs with fresh Folgers as Rusty finished his observation.
“Here’s the thing,” Pastor Peterson said. “I get a picture of a man who’s possibly been in some horrible circumstance in life. Maybe war. Maybe saving a family from a burning building, I don’t know. He’s confined to a wheelchair. No use of his limbs. Can’t leave the house except for medical appointments and then only with a specially equipped van.”
The mood was getting a little somber, not gonna lie.
“He has only a medical assistant living with him, paid for through a government program to help unsung heroes. He spends hours on Bring a Trailer. That’s all he’s got.” Pastor Peterson’s voice trailed off for a minute. Pretty sure that was for dramatic emphasis, but he could have just lost his train of thought. Dunno. “So he sits there at his computer all day long. Every day. Banging out little comments on every action that comes up. A lot of them are repeats because it actually pains him to type.”
You could hear a pin drop in the Grounds of Divorce.
“Over time, he makes friends on BaT. Digital friends. Cyber buddies. He’s always positive, despite his horrific circumstances.” The pastor had obviously given this some thought. Or he was making it up as he went along, but making it sound damn good. “He finds something to live for. Something to focus on while each day gets longer and longer. A lot of people find the sheer volume of comments irritating. They don’t even hesitate to point it out. Others just skip over them; it’s easy enough to do. But the guy gets recognized for all the comments and nominated for Most Valuable Commenter. Never says a word about it, but he has to be choked up.”
We all kind of looked at each other. Then at our menus. Lucinda stops, puts the coffee pot down on the Bunn-O-Matic to brew a fresh one, then comes over and stands behind the pastor and listens.
“Hasn’t ever done anything to offend anyone, but pulls up the voting and reads the vicious comments aimed at him. Over and over again.” There wasn’t a dry eye at the big round table in the middle of the cafe.
“And he sees people crunching numbers, running statistics, and throwing mathematical formulas out to denigrate his effort. Mocking him for the only thing he has in life.” Chad added. “I wish a couple of those guys pulling all that info and posting it would do my taxes. I’d get a refund every year. Sheesh.”
New Guy grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser in the middle of the table and started dabbing at his eyes. “Do you really think that might be the case, Pastor?”
“It’s a long shot. Point is,” Pastor Peterson said, “is that you never know. Why take a chance? Maybe people from Australia are just more irritating than people from Fort Stockton. Never been there. Don’t know. But I know there are plenty right here in town that are no picnic to be around, but we smile and are civil because we see them face-to-face in the Piggly Wiggly, instead of only as a name on a screen. Point is, give folks the benefit of the doubt.”
“We all pick our nose,” Sister Thelma chimed in. “It’s what we do with it afterwards that makes us each different.” That kind of turned the crowd around. And made everyone look at each other and wonder.
“I gotta run, “Rusty said. “Ya’ll gonna be back here tomorrow?” Most folks nodded in the affirmative.
“I can’t make it tomorrow,” I said sheepishly. “BaT Force One is picking me up at Fort Stockton Regional Airport and Feedlot first thing in the AM. They’re flying me in for the induction ceremony and hoe-down for 3Pedal in the City by the Bay. Invitation only. Hate to miss tomorrow, but it’s a tradition. Don’t want to let everyone down. Sludgo has never missed a single one. Want to make sure I don’t either.”
“What’s he really like?” Lucinda asked.
“Sludgo? He’s like Delgado,” I assured her. “Just heavier. And older. And without the Ecuadorian/Columbian accent. Okay, he’s nothing like Delgado. But get him and PDXBryan in a room together with a band and a bottle of Johny Walker? Worse ways to spend a Sunday morning.”
Pastor Peterson didn’t laugh.
10 responses to “FOR WHOM THE BELLCORD TOLLS”
Great view of things guys, very well said
I thought Lucinda responded the poop question in a previous story, but that may have been Beth Dutton so forgive me as I find the two equally alluring. Frankly because I knew, I expected New Guy to know (given asymmetric tangential thought trains, quantum physics, metaphysics vs theology etc). Anyway, color me surprised but, the world is made for people who aren’t cursed with self awareness so here we are.
At the risk of being redundant; Four stomach compartments rather than one is a consideration but the main determinants of poop characteristics are size of the ‘pooper’ and the ratio of water intake to solids. After that predator/prey ratios over the eons of evolution also have been a minor factor.
On a related topic; Wombats eat grass too but their poop is cubed… And they can stack them up; the question is why? Feel free to discuss… or not.
Still poop related but horror not fiction; Caucus Night is the 15th.
Oh crap.
No, no! That was the Captain’s gag line, repurposed in my post. I actually HAVE driven a bus — for about 200 yards — and didn’t knock over a single cone.
Captain, Am I THE guy?
I was definitely one them, and I’d be prevaricating If I didn’t admit that it stings a bit to be branded with the scarlet “H-word” by the ecclesiastical royalty of Ft. Stockton.
And while I cannot speak for the others, my replies were directed at the comments and not the commenter himself.
Come to think of it, I don’t recall anyone making ad hominem attacks toward said commenter so I’m a bit mystified by the disapprobation of Sister Thelma. Can’t you still “hate the sin but not the sinner?”
Speaking of sin, I’ve made my more than my share of silly “unvaluable” comments but not tens of thousands.
As an inactive member of Pastor Peterson’s larger flock, I hear loud and clear what he is conveying and, believe it or not, coincidentally contemplated such a scenario myself as one could say I’m in a vaguely analogous situation myself–even made a comment in the “Mason” story.
So while I cannot argue the Pastor’s sage example, it has served me extremely well to treat everyone the same irrespective of who and what they are and what their circumstances may be.
It seems like I remember a somewhat similar sermon from my distant past.
And I also heard what the Pastor said the other day about simply skipping over comments that may offend. While that’s good advice it does make me think of walking on a trail that has been used by lots of dog owners who’ve failed in their civic responsibility: Sure you can avoid what is on the trail but it makes the walk just a little bit less enjoyable.
Ultimately I came away from this whole thing glad that others had at least a similar perception of value versus quantity. If there were some other category for most-, happiest-, or upbeat- comments I’d be the first to vote for this guy, but not wherein value has anything to do with it.
In this regard I remain steadfast.
But glad I was that is until I found out I riled up a few of the citizens of Ft. Stockton. I hope I’m still welcome at the Grounds for Divorce.
I am reminded of countless faculty meetings when Administration would drone on and on about all the problems regarding a certain topic and we all knew who THE teacher was they were talking about. Well, all of us but THE teacher who was causing the problem.
Angus, my friend, you are not THE guy. I appreciate several of the points you make. In fact, I think we agree on most every one of them. But, I’ll go ahead and share some thoughts, ‘cause that’s what we do at the big round table in the middle of the Grounds for Divorce.
Our Australian friend seems to irritate a very large number of people. I would be lying if I did not count myself amongst that group. I’ve never understood why or how someone can make over 40,000 comments. I just don’t get the point. I am not alone, in that his ‘ratio’ is about a thumb and a half for each comment. Luckily, they are short and easy to “step over on the trail”.
But his posts speak to someone. Not sure who, how, or why, but this is the second year he’s been nominated. It must be by sheer volume, although people mention that he is always positive. As a point of reference, when I won the award for 2019, I had made a total of 117 comments. Big difference between 40,000 and 117. But those 117 comments struck enough people that the big prize truck backed up to my garage and started unloading in early February.
In the five years since I “joined” BaT, I’ve only posted a little over 800 comments in total. Those comments have generated over 23,000 upward thrust opposable appendages. (That says more about the low standards people use for hitting the “like” button than anything else, admittedly.) All that to say, I am a FIRM believer in the “Quality over Quantity” argument.
Your analogy of stepping over dog turds on the trail made me snicker as a great metaphor . . . except it is clearly against the rules of the trail to let your dog drop a deuce and not pick it up. Posting 40,000 inane comments on Bring a Trailer doesn’t break any rules. You could argue that maybe it should, but that’s up to the folks in San Francisco and they apparently don’t see the harm in it, so who are we to say?
But I was taken aback at the efforts of a few, especially one in particular, to go full postal against the poor guy, who never asked to be nominated or commented during the nominations or voting. It seemed over the top. Relentless. I wanted to say, “We get it. We know he drives you crazy. He drives a lot of us crazy, but give it a rest.” However, I have a self-imposed rule that I only comment one time on any single auction. I don’t want to turn into THE guy.
This commenter’s postings took a repeated and venomous turn. That is not uncommon in some of his “regular” posts where he enjoys “correcting” others, or generally being negative about cars or other commenters. Funny thing is, he actually seems to know a lot about cars and has some good input, but it often gets drowned out by him yelling “Get off my lawn” so often.
And the guys who ran the numbers and posted them making statistical arguments for voting against the guy missed the point of the award, in my opinion. It took a lot of time to crunch and post numbers we all knew already.
It made me feel bad for someone who had to take a public flogging for enjoying the site the way he wanted to.
I appreciate the “hate the sins, not the sinner” message you took from Pastor Peterson at the cafe. (Overall, a pretty good rule of thumb in life.) But in the cyber world in which Bring a Trailer operates (not unlike the GFD), the comments and the commenter are one and the same.
Sadly, I got the vibe that a lot of the comments and votes posted were ‘against’ someone, rather than ‘for’ someone else. That is a sign of the times, I’m afraid. I’m suspect I’ll be doing that very thing myself when I trudge to the National Guard Armory and pull the lever in November.
As far as I know, you didn’t ruffle a single feather in all of Fort Stockton, much less here at the Grounds for Divorce. We’re all friends here, enjoying Folgers, cars, opinions, and Lucinda walking back to the Bunn-O-Matic for a fresh pot. Looking on the bright side. Smelling the roses. Grateful to be vertical for another day.
Thank you Captain for piloting us safely through the lake of deer pellets, cow patties and horse pattui(sp?)!
PDXB
Come on, PDX, the scientific name is Hosspuckey. I thought everybody knew that!
That’s it – thanks! Had a little vocab failure there.
I still giggle remembering your line about CMC “taking the bus home” ;^)
I think Colonel Sherman T. Potter would tell you it’s “Horse Hockey!”