How Can People be so Heartless? How Can People be so Cruel? (Easy to be Hard)

Qn Rr. Shutterstock Images.

I didn’t quit my teaching job to work for Barstool Sports exclusively to be Dave Portnoy’s memelord, although that's what got me in the door. I had an ulterior motive. I wanted a chance to write for a major sports media company.

Previously, I had been a guest writer and blogger at The Sun Chronicle in Attleboro, MA. You could say I cut my writing teeth there. I wrote about sports, local and national, until I renamed my blog "Vinnie's Abyss" and started writing about anything and everything.

I mentored under Mark Flanagan, then the opinion page editor. I once wrote a story about a friend of mine who collected penny candy when he was a kid, and stored it in two shallow but wide top drawers in his antique bureau, one that had previously been his parents'.

On occasion, he’d open the drawers and show me his candy collection. There was so much of it, and it was well organized. The moment he opened the drawers, the entire room filled with the sweet smell of all the different types of candy he had.

The first time he showed it to me, my mouth began watering in anticipation, and I was sure we were gonna eat some. Then, after only a brief look, he abruptly pushed the drawers shut. 

He often showed me his candy, but never shared any of it. In fact, the collection never seemed to shrink. It always looked exactly the same.

Many years later, after he got married and moved to Florida, something went terribly wrong. He shot his wife dead and then killed himself. When I saw it on the evening news, all I could think about was the uneaten candy, hoping, of course, that I had been mistaken and he'd actually chowed down on it the moment I left his house, then restocked it.

I submitted the story to Mark, and he wanted to use it with one minor caveat: it was 1,500 words, and he told me if I cut it down to 600, he'd run it.

I laughed, “You want me to remove 900 words? It won’t even be close to the same story…”

Mark replied with little emotion, “You can do it, Vin. Call me when you’re done.” And then he hung up. 

I ran into the other room, enraged and animated, and told Susan. She gave me a weird look, and then calmly repeated exactly what Mark said, ”You can do it, Vin.”

Mark wanted me to edit out 60% of my story. I was pissed, but I enjoyed seeing my name in a byline so much, I immediately went to work…

It took me a couple of days, but I whittled it down to 600 words. And you know what? It was much better, and it got published.

I had other mentors along the way. My high school English teacher, Tony Payne, taught me so much about writing. Years after I graduated high school and became a plumber, I installed a gas stove in his house just after Thanksgiving. When I finished, I told him about guest writing for The Sun Chronicle and asked if he wouldn't mind reading my stuff before I submitted it. He agreed to be my writing advisor, but not my editor. At one point, after I began showing improvement, on the day of my fiftieth birthday, he proudly called to say, “You’re 50 years old, Vinnie, and you’re finally getting an A in high school English!”

We had a good laugh, but it actually meant a lot to me.

Mr. Payne's wife was a librarian in town, and she was receiving chemotherapy for cancer, losing all her hair on her way to a complete recovery. When Susan was diagnosed, I called him. In addition to his written word, his spoken word was just as inspirational. He was there for me when I needed him most.

My good friend Scott L. Allen, AKA Crazyboy, was an incredible writer, with a vocabulary that challenged Mr. Payne's. Although he lived in California, we talked writing strategy all the time. He majored in journalism in college and helped me immensely. The day before his first novel was supposed to be ready for publishing, while sitting at the beach and finishing up the back flap, he suffered a widow maker and never got to see his book get published. He was only 55.

On Crazyboy's insistence, I started writing some fiction. Previously, I had only written creative non-fiction. My first story was based on my friend Steve, who was in prison. His cellmate across the hall was George Jung, aka Boston George. People became familiar with his life story in the movie "Blow", starring Johnny Depp and Penélope Cruz. George was a coke dealer, and his association with Pablo Escobar earned him a 60-year prison sentence beginning in 1994. 

Steve became friendly with him, and when I sent a completed chapter, he shared it with George. Then Steve would send me a letter with his thoughts and George's too. At first I took offense to Mr. Jung's critique, but after I found out he was a celebrated ghostwriter, I began listening. 

My big takeaway from George was not to write, but to paint. Create a visual using words. Probably the best writing advice I ever received.

A lot of people were shocked that a 'Plumber' could write engaging stories, but as I've always said, "Plumbing is what I do, not who I am."

I send my blog to friends and family, and some of my Barstool Co-workers and bosses. Big Cat got a kick out of me sending him every one of my blogs. I send them to Dave, too. I'm not sure they read 'em, but at least they know I'm writing 'em...

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While I was writing LTFU jokes, several of my female friends asked me to stop sending them my blog. Between the jokes and the jiggling thumbnails, they didn't want them coming up on their phones, and I completely understood.

I published 220 LTFU jokes over two and a half years, and now I write only long-form blogs. Since that change, no one has asked me to stop sending them my blog. Until recently, when I sent Kirk Minihane's favorite, "I'll Never Forget Where I Was On 9/11," to all my peeps, and one individual immediately replied, "STOP." 

Before that, my only experience with any type of opt-out had been with major internet marketing companies who stated, "If you no longer want to receive future messages, reply "STOP".  Under FCC rules, sending "STOP" revokes your consent to receive automated marketing texts. It's an effective way to stop recurring marketing messages, but it doesn't cover blogs, so he kind of took me by surprise. 

Receiving the FCC legal "STOP" from one of my peeps was disappointing, and kind of a slap in the face, but as per his request, I took him off my blog list immediately. Apparently, I had become a nuisance to him, and he didn't want to be bothered reading my blogs or even deleting them himself...

At this point in my life, I'm still trying to deal with the loss of my wife, and living in a world where writing has become one of my only creative outlets, I felt replying "STOP" was not only unnecessary, but a tad heartless and cruel. 

When I first started at Barstool, I would've lost sleep over it, and my blood pressure would've spiked. But seven years of social media has thickened my skin, and one person's opinion of my writing means absolutely nothing to me. 

Write on!

How can people have no feelings?
How can they ignore their friends?
Easy to be hard
Easy to be cold
Easy to be proud
Easy to say no...