A few weeks ago, someone from Hometown was doing a Google search of Hometown’s name and came across my mom’s blog. They found the first post she wrote, which she has since removed, about a dance recital my step-niece participated in. The post was a well written piece, following fundamental narrative structure, about how my mom was reluctant to attend said recital because it was out of town, expensive, and scheduled to be four hours long. (As far as I’m concerned, all valid complaints.) By the end of the recital though, Mom was pleased as punch to be there, witnessing Niece dance her little heart out, transfixed by Niece’s grace and beauty.

The person who Googled Hometown’s name knows some of the organizers of the recital, and, I assume, some of the dancers. She took exception to what my mom said and printed out the post to show other people. As you can imagine, in a town as small as Hometown, this started quite the shitstorm. The “letter” as they called it, was passed around the county fair and home football games. Everyone tried to figure out who the “Evil Grandmother” could be. “Who would say such means things?” they pondered. “Why would anyone badmouth Dance Teacher who is doing so much for our community?”

My mom finally heard about the fracas from Niece’s mother, who also had no idea who had written the letter. By the end of the conversation, Mom knew who had done the original Google search, who was passing the letter around, and most of who in town was pissed at her for writing it.

In an effort to dispel the rumor mongering and alleviate the concerns of those kvetching over who could be so mean, Mom fessed up on her blog and apologized for any wrongdoings.

I know this is going to piss Mom off, but here’s what I have to say to those who participated in turning this molehill into a mountain:

FUCK ALL Y’ALL. Seriously.

For those of you savvy enough to find your way to my web site, you are excluded from the above remark. For the rest of you, get a fucking clue. I mean, really. There is a picture of my mom’s dog on her blog, a dog everyone in town knows. There are stories that easily identify my step-dad, one of the most recognizable businessmen in town. To wander town with other busybodies trying to figure out who wrote this post means you either didn’t read the rest of the blog, which makes you stupid, or you are just an evil gossip hound. In either case, I am reminded why I ran as far and fast from that town as I could upon graduating high school. And I don’t think you deserve an apology.

I love Hometown. It’s one of the most beautiful places on the planet. My parents, who are two of my favorite people alive, reside there. I have many happy memories of playing in the river and trees there. But its quiet serenity and untouched beauty oftentimes can’t compare with the small-minded, uneducated, nosy, holier-than-thou, backwoods fools who call it home.

I’m pissed, can you tell?

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