Yes, you can report them, but the bullies will always be around.

i actually find a lot of the bashing quite funny and not bullyish at all.

i guess it's one's perception the manner in which it's taken.

I have to agree. Isn't it supposed to be fun. I have not seen many comments that weren't delivered with toungue in cheek...

Actually, Jasmine, asking such a question IS a violation of Mingle2 rules, because it's offensive and rude.

Thank you for this thread, by the way. Hopefully, it'll serve as a reminder to others to be a bit nicer to the new folks so that they can get acclimatized and stick around; maybe it'll also remind folks that it's NOT their place to "chase others off".

Mingle2 has a system of rules, and we also possess the tools to enforce them. We're here to make this a good experience for each and every member. We need the cooperation of all of you to do this. This means reporting offensive behavior/posts/emails, and taking the time to read and stay within the guidelines set forth by Mingle2.

Note: we do notice when someone tries to fly right under the very letter of the law. We see these things, and we do keep tabs.

Be well,

Lori
Moderator

Im guessing that it is mostly done in jest. I know it is when i get involved.

But newbies dont always know how to take our humour. But at the same time, some older members cannot take the very same jokes.

Maybe so, but it is OUR job to "hound" them out, not yours.

In all seriousness when I was complety new I had a few gang up on me, but I was being negative because when I was looking for comradery, I was left wanting. While I may have deserved it for turning negative in my approach, I think that all newbies are looking for a sense of belonging, save the pervs wanting to get laid and cynically assuming that there may be men posing as women. In which case they deserve it, but I can't help but think that to chastise someone for wanting to make friends is unforgivable to a degree. That degree is that everyone deserves to be forgiven once in a while.

Emily, just keep reporting them. Dan,i got my psychology degree from The School Of Hard Knocks. be seeing you

dis threadz been chopped and skrewed big time

okay, I'll do it. I'm looking up "The Love Song of Alfred J. Prussock"

I dont make it a mission of my own to do it, but sometimes it happens that people are hounded out by 'the mob' anyway. At the end of the day you are nothing without us and we are nothing without you. We all work together in one way or another, even if some of us are trying to follow set guidelines and others not, and there is a kind of balance, which generally works.

If that makes any sense.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.





The title by the way was "The Love Song of Alfred J. Prudock" By T.S. Eliot.

it never happened to me all of you were very nice

I know many of you will find this to long to read and fully comprehend, but trust me, it's well worth it.

And on that note I am beginning to grow bored with justified arseholiness with a glimmer occasionally of true justifications.

so yeah hi jasmine or creepy talking bird lady!lol

maybe for some odd reason and im just guessing is that people think their number of post they have made is a status symbol?

last time i checked you dont get a cooker per 100 post you make so i think people made need to get off their high horse! im not saying that is the case but maybe it is.

either way its almost human nature to do hazing but dating and meeting people is hard enough with some tooldeuche being down right rude to them..

you went and got stoned didnt you

I so agree...

See why cannibals are needed?