Trolls

by Betsy Ashton

Betsy Ashton, born in Washington, DC, was raised in Southern California where she ran wild with coyotes in the hills above Malibu. She protested the war in Vietnam, burned her bra for feminism, and is a steadfast Independent. She is a writer, a thinker, the mother of three grown stepchildren, companion and friend. She mentors writers and writes and publishes fiction. Her first mystery, Mad Max Unintended Consequences, was published in February 2013. The second in the series, Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, came out in April 2015. In her spare time, she is the president of the state-wide Virginia Writers Club. She loves riding behind her husband on his motorcycle. You’ll have to decide for yourself if and where she has a tattoo.

May 16, 2016

I have a confession. I love one kind of trolls. The kind that live in dark, dank places, like under footbridges, and jump out to grab unsuspecting passersby. This little guy on my post nearly blends into my kitchen counter top. As trolls go, he’s actually friendly. He’s kept me company at times by sitting on my desk and daring me not to write. I’ve never taken his dare.

The trolls I don’t like are the ones who steal pictures of someone they aren’t, pose as nice people who want to be Facebook friends, and then who ask inappropriate personal questions. All you women out there on Facebook know who I’m talking about.

I’ve have a cluster of such trolls in the past few months. I have no idea what they want other than my street address, phone number and cell number. Yeah, like I’m going to give up that information. Email addresses are more public because FB, LinkedIn, Goodreads, Twitter, personal websites, Pinterest and other social media platforms require them. Many of these trolls start with calling me “dear.” I’m not your “dear.” I’m not your “deer.” You have no right to know what color my underwear is. If you pose as my friend and then ask if I’m married, earth to troll, my marital status is on my Facebook profile. And I don’t care if you widowed or divorced.

What makes me so angry is the co-opting of pictures on military men who are actively serving or who have served our country honorably. Yes, many military men have FB presences. It’s their right to do so. But to have someone steal your picture, add a different name and then pretend to be someone they aren’t — shame on the trolls.

Take two examples, one concerning names, the other concerning s picture.

Have you noticed how many of these trolls make up names? I mean, really, Hasam Judge?  Gen. Markus Laubenthal? Heinz Winter? Sounds like cold ketchup. I could go on and on, but you get the picture.

The other icky type co-opts pictures. My two favorites here are the man who posed as a 4-star general of the Navy. Um, Navy flag officers are admirals, not generals. Some have gone to Army University. Um, it’s West Point. But back to the pictures. My very most favorite was a troll who stole a picture of a real Marine colonel, said he was in the Air Force (never say that to a Marine), and claimed to be a general. The colonel’s insignia were clear in the picture. What was even clearer was the picture:  it was the husband of one of my real-life friends. We had a great laugh, although her husband hinted he’d like to see this troll in the cross-hairs of his sniper rifle. I think he was kidding. No, wait, Marines don’t joke about things like this.

So, FB gal pals. When you see one of these very handsome men in uniform sending you a friend request, deny it. Mark it as spam. If you do the latter, FB will remove the image. If we all do this, we protect the sisterhood.

One last question for the trolls: Does your mother know what you’re doing?

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 Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max, Unintended Consequences, and Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Please follow me on my website, on TwitterFacebook and Goodreads.

 

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