Leave him alone

Saying mean things doesn’t count if you do it on social media.

Apparently.

There can be no other explanation for the terrible comments I read on-line every day.

I hate hurting people. I avoid verbal stoushes because I don’t like the weaponry fired in the heat of the moment.

Too many ugly words have been seared into my brain forever.

I always ask myself: “How would I feel if someone said that about me?”

And, if it would make me feel bad to be on the receiving end, I (usually) don’t say it.

I screw up sometimes – we all do.

Last week, I laughed at some stuff people said and felt a bit uncomfortable afterwards.

Isn’t it one short step removed from saying it yourself? Isn’t condoning mean things just as wrong as saying them?

My unease started with a story about Gabi Grecko suffering morning sickness after falling pregnant to Geoffrey Edelsten.

One commenter said: “I’m pretty sure she’s feeling sick because she had sex with a mouldy potato. How could you do it & live with yourself?”

I confess I burst out laughing … and 707 people went on to “like” the comment.

Then I thought – sure, Geoffrey is an easy target, but does that make it OK to be mean about his looks?

I felt the same way on Saturday when the news broke that James Packer was dating Mariah Carey.

Comments included:

“James packer is so gross …. His money still doesn’t make him anymore attractive.”

“This guy really must have a chocolate flavored doodle, coz honestly I couldn’t wake up to that every morning no matter how much coin he has!”

“That poor man looks more and more like his father with every passing day…”

Again, I sniggered at the doodle remark and the suggestion from another woman that the prospect of shagging James would be even better if his chocolate flavoured doodle “ejaculates champagne.”

But then I felt sad.

Imagine James Packer reading those remarks? Are we not supposed to care about his feelings because he’s rich and powerful? I don’t get that. Why does someone having lots of money make it OK to be nasty about them?

The Sharpest Pencil asked recently: “Where does the humanity end and where does the celebrity start? What makes it okay to hate on someone who is a celebrity simply because we recognise their faces from a movie or a catwalk?”

Or because we’re JEALOUS that someone is a squillionaire.

I have skin in the game. I met James a couple of times during my mag hag days and he seemed genuinely nice. It colours my guilt a little.

I also wonder if his pursuit of attractive women isn’t just about flaunting his power but also about self-esteem – trying NOT to believe the merry discussion about his ugliness.

Imagine constantly hearing and reading that the mere thought of shagging you makes people go “ewwwww”?

I would NOT like to hear that once about myself.

Would you?

Song of the day: Crowded House “Mean to me”