A Croc of … Wit

Over the last couple of weeks I've received at least five marriage proposals and a couple of death threats. One guy told me he wanted to shoot me. Another thought a knife would be best. I was called a bad father and a wonderful, caring man. Several women admitted their undying love for me, and several men wanted to do something to me with a shoe that is anatomically impossible. At least one person thinks I'm "friggin' hilarious." But many, many more have concluded that I am an "idiot," a "dork" and a "loser."

My crime? I wrote an essay for NEWSWEEK in which I said that I sorta, kinda, maybe don't like Crocs shoes all that much. OK, I said I hated them and that people who wear them are dorky. It was an Ed Anger-style rant for a lazy August afternoon, intended to brighten the Friday of our Web readers and maybe make them chuckle a little. I had hoped a few people who noticed the story would even leave a quick comment.

I had no idea what I was in for. Within hours, there were hundreds and hundreds of comments. Within a few days there were thousands. The people who wrote in were elated. They were furious. They demanded to be heard. Tip to fellow journalists: Forget the presidential election. Never mind Iraq. The death penalty? Gun control? Feh. If you want to inflame the passions of the American people, write about rubber clogs.

I was called "absolutely brilliant" and a complete "dumbass." I was accused of being a racist and yet somehow pro-Barack Obama because I ended my rant with a jokey "Yes! We! Can!" Some said I was just plain un-American for criticizing neon clown shoes that are made in Mexico, Italy, Romania, China, Canada, and the United States. One patriot went so far as to accuse me of stirring the pot "with the stick of America." I honestly have no idea what that means, but at least it makes me sound manly.

Many, many people speculated that I was a big loser in high school. If being in charge of the Senior Class Homecoming float and being the water carrier for the varsity football team makes me a loser, then fine. But one guy defended me on this front: "I want to be a has-been high school loser, too. He's clever, witty, ironic AND brilliant." Clearly, this reader gets me.

Two themes ran through the negative comments: One, that I shouldn't spend my time railing against rubber shoes in a world threatened by war and disease and global warming; and two, that I am an idiot. Many of those who accused me of slacking off as a journalist—and there were hundreds—were no doubt themselves reading the article and posting about it while they were at work, on company time. As far as I can tell, I was the only one who was actually doing my job. Some of the more entertaining comments came from the second group—the ones who accused me of being an idiot. A reader with the user name Castanee was "amased of myself that was cappable of reading through this lines." Ouch. that stings, I think. A Crocs lover  who goes by Allen54456 thought I should try to be more "revenant." Another angry reader wondered how I ever got "publicated."

There were many suggestions about how I could better use my time, from killing myself to seeing "how long it takes to replace all your light bulbs with energy saver bulbs." I'll choose the latter if that's OK. One guy said my essay was "fascism disguised as humor." Many thought my outlandish opinions about the shoes were a threat to our free society. At least a couple of people accused me of encouraging genocide. For the record, in no way did I intend the article to encourage genocide, and to the extent that it might have done so, I apologize.