30 Days Of Disaster
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Let's recap: A local married couple (we'll call them Schmauren and Schmawn Schcott from Schmranbury, for reasons that will soon become clear to you) was contacted by CW33 and asked if they would bone each other every day for 30 days and report back with a daily blog and news interviews about doin' the hokeypokey.
At this point, we're past the part where we all acknowledge that no one could possibly care, because the bigger story is this: The whole sexy experiment quickly turned into an Internet-sized debacle once the Schcotts realized they had packed up their gear, hopped in a canoe and paddled themselves straight up Internet shit creek.
Some anonymous trolling assbag took time off 4Chan or wherever the mom's basement gang are hanging out these days and threatened to kill their 2-year-old son, and the CW33 took down the original story. J-Floyd has taken the opportunity to do some serious tsk-tsk-ing, a favorite activity of DMN columnists, far as I can tell.
She writes, not naming the couple in question (the, ahem, Schcotts):
I mean, J-Floyd's right. You put your business on the Internet, particularly your sexybusiness, and it's only a matter of time before it beats down your door in the middle of the night with the express intention of ripping you several shiny, brand-new ones. I informed Schmauren Schcott as much when she called me early one morning after receiving the threat against her son and verily lit into me for my gall at writing about her family on the Internet. (O RLY?)This was my plan: I was going to write a grumpy, spare-us-please column about an area couple's silly "30-day sex challenge" updates on a local television station. I was planning to make some pointed remarks about puerile, titillating sweeps-week dreck masquerading as "lifestyle news" and about our narcissistic reality-TV culture.
Then I was going to wrap it up by hammering home the point that, once you voluntarily give up your privacy, it's awfully hard to get it back. But I don't have to. They already know.
KDAF-TV (Channel 33) removed all references to the "sex challenge" story last week after an anonymous blogger threatened to harm the family's young son.
After a while, she calmed down, and we had a nice conversation about how the Internet is full of crazies and how Schmauren legitimately never thought the CW33 story would have any kind of serious ramifications. She seemed like a perfectly nice, if naive, concerned mother. But can we blame the fresh-faced young couple for not knowing better? I mean, it's not like the dangers of Internet overshare have ever been covered anywhere before, ever.
But on to more pressing matters. Because I, long ago, hopped in my shit creek canoe and founded a long-term settlement, I have no problem making an Internet sexytime commitment, which I did when I originally wrote about the Schcotts on Unfair Park. I committed to not having sex for 30 days. That was on Friday, May 14. And friends, I tell you now: I have had great success in continuing to not have sex. My secret? Angry Birds scratches my action itch just fine. For now.
See, this weekend is the National Polka Festival, so who knows what might happen? I love me some lederhosen.
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