It's True, I Read It On Wiki.

Reputation is a funny thing.
Often a single event defines who we become in the public eye.
A woman who has lived a life wrapped in normalcy for more than 30 years can become 'the girl who got so drunk she vomited on the lap of the guy she was giving a head job to in the pub' in a heartbeat.
She is forever more 'the vomiting head job girl'.
These days with the permanent documentation of the Internet, an unfortunate event or ill advised slip in dignity is there forever to be revisited again and again and again.
The number of times I have warned my three about cameras and sexual acts makes me sound like a woman obsessed.
I KNOW it worked for Paris Hilton and Kim Kardasiarse, but I simply don't want it to work for my own kids.
Ever.
The thing about the Internet too, while I am on it, is that it can be used to create things that are not actually there.
Take Hymie Hasbeen, for example (see previous blog for details).
He has a Wiki page.
It even lists some of his achievements.
In 2013, a Wiki page seems to attach solidity to the unsolid.
If it's online, it must be true.
I now invite you to look away from this blog and explore the things you never thought were possible, online.
Actual pictures of fairies in the garden, women being actually cut in half and magicked together unharmed, stories of John Travolta's heterosexuality.
It's all there.
Being on the Internet does not make something real.
But a reputation created on the Internet seems to be.
Having a public relations firm write a press release filled with achievements and accolades should not be the bases of a mans standing within the community, and yet it has become that.
If Adolf Hitler were alive today, the spin doctors working to justify his behaviour would have us all believing that the destruction of the Jews and the annihilation of freedom was simply the logical next step in evolution.
The mans reputation would have been seared into positive permanence by the workings of the World Wide Web.
I am not criticising the Internet per say, after all how else would I have a platform to vent, merely I am pointing out that a reputation- so easy to create and destroy- should be based on more than a website.
But of course I am pissing into a very strong wind on this one.
Hymie Hasbeen, the man with an ego so brittle parts of it flake off as he walks down the street, will continue to be revered for as long as the management handling his social media profile receive the cheques.
And even when the cheques dry up- an ironic reflection of their client- the permanence of the Internet will ensure that his reputation remains as it was set.
Counter claims to a mans reputation at the street level tend to have little impact until the roar becomes so deafening that it can no longer be ignored.
Jimmy Savile being a case in point.
The interesting point in all this is that it would only require one incident, one tiny little 'caught on camera' moment to alter the structure of a reputation forever.
Wiki pages can be altered too, by anyone who has half a brain and knows how to use the a computer.
So we now find ourselves in a World where we write our own legend with the flick of a wrist, and can have it destroyed by the click of a button.
No wonder we all are developing such short attention spans.

What Did You Just Call Me?

Do you ever secretly give people nicknames ?
I do all the time.
I never used to.
It all started when I was sharing an apartment with a lovely girl named May after I split up with my ex-husband.
May was a lot younger than me, a musician in an Orchestra and an American.
She also had/has a thing for the colour purple.
But one of the funnest things about May - apart from her extraordinary cocktail creations - was the way she would give nicknames to any guy she hooked up with.
I know that Sex in the City has a ' Mr Big', but May had a 'Rabbit Fuck Boy'.
I'm thinking if you are a guy, being known as Mr Big would not be a problem.
I can tell you now, being 'Rabbit Fuck Boy' is not how you wish to be known amongst the ladies.
Giving people nicknames is a great way to mentally turn the irritating and ridiculous into cartoon caricatures of themselves.
In my world I have a 'Mr Shit-Floats', who epitomises that concept in every way.
By silently using that name, I can somehow reconcile his position within society within myself.
It is a mental safety valve.
Without it I fear I would rage and rage at the injustice of his elevation over the years, but by reminding myself that he owes his power to a sad, but truthful, metaphor I can cope.
Of course, nicknames can be loving and kind.
These are the ones we like to share.
My daughter has long been 'Boofulsunshiney' and is still 'bunny' and 'kitten' when she needs to be.
My eldest son has been 'The Big Lad' since he was 3.
His sister calls him 'Kipster', which is a derivative of his name ( she gets 'Parrot' for the same reason).
The youngest is known as 'Little Pants', due to his place in the pecking order.
When he came along -when his brother was 3- there were obviously TWO boys to deal with.
One was bigger ' The Big lad', one was smaller, 'Little pants'.
That the younger one now stands a good 2-3 inches in height over his elder sibling is of no consequence.
At 6'3, he is still my little pants.
'The Big Lad' is now a buff, gym attending, bearded man about town.
He is as eloquent and erudite as any man you ever met.
Neither 'Big' nor 'Laddish' in any way.
It matters not. He is my 'Big Lad', and always will be.
But these names bulge with love.
Pity the man whom I have tagged 'Wally Onetone' for his lack of depth or pitch, amongst other things.
Or 'Mr Hasbeen', a man who is afraid of the shadow of the shadow of his former self.
But men are not the only ones endowed with labels that beat with a heart of disbelief and derision.
I met a woman years ago who had be blessed with an inner bitch that was so divisive within the community that she could literally part a room down the centre before entering it.
It was from her lips that I first heard the term 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'.
I thought she had made it up.
It was the kind of thing she would have made up.
She was, as my mother would say, a piece of work.
Her nickname came in the form of the blessing of ill health and her own double barreled surname.
This woman developed a rather unfortunate medical condition, IBS to be exact.
A hideous and horrible, painful and embarrassing affliction I would not wish on my worst enemy....
That's not true.
I would.
But what it did do was give rise to her nickname.
Smelly Belly Smith.
OK, I'm not proud of it ( I am) but by God it made me happy at the time.
It still does.
Secret nicknames can be so cathartic.
It's a private 'push-back' at those for whom a push forward would be wasted energy.
But of course, caution must be applied when speaking to these people in person.
I sometimes find myself mentally checking to ensure that the private nickname does not inadvertently erupt in place of the persons actual name when speaking with them.
How embarrassing would that be?
For them....as well as me.
Take 'Bitchface Amanda', and 'The Krakenwhore' for example.
Both of them living lives blissfully unaware of their less than flattering monikers, and therefore still able to provide endless hours of entertainment.
I think Smelly Belly Smith would be proud of me.