(a.k.a. The Grief Nachos Comment Policy)
Nachos aren’t fancy, so to say we need table manners seems fussy, doesn’t it? Like what are you supposed to do, eat nachos with a fork and knife? Playa, please. Nachos are going to make a mess. That’s why God gave us friends to point out the cheese on our shirts and OxyClean to fix those stains. Dang it, Lisa, why are making things so complicated?
Why?
Well, we’re discussing grief, after all. It’s me in the corner. It’s me in the spot… light… SHARING ALL MY GRIEVIN’.
Delightful references to the fantastic music of the 1990s aside, these are heavy subjects. Yes, I’ll make jokes as I post, and I’m not afraid of dark humor. But don’t mistake occasional comedy as permission to be snarky and snide with one another. Grief is a sensitive subject. I’m sharing mine, and if a reader has the courage and kindness to open up in the comments section, I expect responses to be considerate. I don’t want to see judgment, meanness, sanctimony… period. We can get our own figurative nachos on our “shirts” and make a mess, but I for damn sure won’t tolerate folks starting figurative food fights by being antagonistic shits.
Clear as queso? Good.
More into the brevity thing? Here’s how one of my favorite Facebook groups puts it.
