“Don’t Feed the Trolls.”
Really? Aw, c’mon! They’re so cute!! And they are the perfect size for a foot stool in front of my throne.
But sometimes, they are a bit fat and smelly. Probably from sitting on their arse all day, troll-lol-lolling down the merry path of “I want to piss on your parade because I can.”
Isabel Fay will soon be Minister of Troll Maintenance, once I conquer the world… for the kids, of course.
The beauty of a troll (*snicker* … now, stay with me) is that they are so damn easy to catch. Once you publish ANYTHING on the inter-webs, it is out there. Public domain. Troll Bait. Don’t want the trolls knocking at your door? Suck it up, princess. You invited them. There is nothing more appealing to a troll than a sweet piece of fresh meat, dripping in the juices of noob tears.
Now, trolls are just like 2 year olds. They respond to response. They are stuck in the eternal loop of “Cause and Effect”. ‘Cause they can get an effect out of you. The more vulnerable you are, the sweeter the kill.
So if you are going to step into the big, bad, digital world – dress for the occasion. Put on your armour – my preference is a fresh troll skin, with matching thick-skull helmet.
As my current Minister of Wisdom says “Never argue with a fool; onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.” (Mark Twain)