To comment or not to comment? Online debates can end badly.

I knew it was a bad idea, I knew I'd regret it later, but I went ahead and did it anyway. Twice.

Sharing your opinions on a touchy issue on Facebook or the comment section of a news website is pointless. I know this. For years I've made a conscious effort to restrain myself from broadcasting my point of view on controversial subjects, but my resolve crumbled recently, and I don't feel good about it.

My first slip was on Facebook. Someone "liked" a comment referring to the horrifying shooting rampage at the "Batman" film screening in Aurora, Colorado. The comment said if someone in the audience had been carrying a concealed weapon, the killer would have been brought down quickly and fewer people would have been killed or injured.

Typically, when I read a comment that grates on me like extra long nails slowly scraping the length of a chalkboard, I type a hasty, sarcastic response, then delete it rather than post it. I don't wish to offend, debate or stir the pot on what is supposed to be a site devoted to friendly social activity.

This time, however, I felt compelled to speak out. I commented that, because the shooter was wearing head to toe body armor, it's likely that an armed audience member would have created more casualties with his weapon rather than taking out the killer. I read and reread my comment and considered my options: delete or post. I posted.

Within minutes my comment was met with a paragraph-long rebuttal telling me that I wouldn't make such a comment if I understood what a serious, careful, knowledgeable and responsible lot gun owners are, how citizens are entitled to protect themselves, and so on. The reply was respectful and well-written, and I didn't feel offended in the least. I did, however, feel the need to respond.

My reply, and my belief, is that yes, there most certainly is a large population of responsible gun owners in this country. However, there is also a large population of Dirty Harry wannabes who have no business carrying a squirt gun, let alone a pistol; folks who are way too eager to open fire in the name of self-defense.

I haven't checked back to see what, if any, response was posted in reply. After my second post I calmed down and remembered why I refrain from getting into debates via social media: because nobody, absolutely nobody, is asking for--nor gives a rat's hind end about--my opinion.

People don't share their opinions online in order to generate a civilized exchange of differing viewpoints. Have you ever had your opinion on politics, religion, books, entertainment, parenting, or anything else changed as a result of someone else's commentary? If anything, a contrary opinion will make us stand our ground even more firmly, whether its Obama/Romney or Coke/Pepsi. Contrary begets contrary.

I have opinions by the boatload. Ask me what I think about the economy, the weather, dogs, gas prices, universal health care, chocolate Lucky Charms, capital punishment, music, child rearing, gay marriage, alcoholism, pizza, "Toddlers and Tiaras," nuclear weapons... You get the idea. But do you really want to know?

It's just so darned easy to pop off from the relative anonymity of a keyboard. The words are weightless, or so it seems. I've seen people hiding behind screen names lobbing some astonishingly vicious commentary on situations they know astonishingly little about. They hurl their acidic rhetoric and never have to look their targets in the eye--the targets being criminals or victims of crime, people of a different religion, race, or sexual orientation, illegal immigrants, politicians, rich people or poor people.

I don't want to be an acid hurler. I did come close with my second comment board slip, though. It was on a news website, under a story about the people killed in Aurora. A woman posted a comment about the 6-year-old girl who died. In this woman's opinion the little girl, child of a single, financially struggling mom, probably wouldn't have amounted to much, anyway, had she lived.

What would you have said? I said I thought the child deserved to live no matter what. Then I added that a woman whose screen name was "Inebriated Mother" (I'm paraphrasing) was the last person who should be throwing stones.

Since then I've cut way back on reading the comments posted on news sites. I have a mile-wide sarcastic streak, and it's not in my best interest to take it out and sharpen it up on a regular basis. Being nasty for the sake of being nasty is like kicking dirt on your heart and soul. I've done more than enough of it in my lifetime. I don't want to use my mind and my keyboard as weapons.

There's a saying frequently spoken in recovery circles: Is it true, is it kind, is it necessary? If I work at applying this to my online comments, as well as my real-time speech, my little corner of the world will be a gentler place, and there will be a tad less vitriol poisoning cyberspace.

Deb Pascoe of Marquette is a freelance writer and a peer recovery coach for Child and Family Services of the U.P. A former columnist for The Mining Journal, her book, "Life With a View," a collection of her past columns, is available in area bookstores.
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