Happily, I'm hard to hurt.

On Saturday I wrote a defense of that famous Peloton ad and braced myself for a scathing assault from the masses over my opinion.

Given the outrage at the commercial, I assumed that everyone hated the ad in equal measure.

Surprisingly (and happily), I was wrong. Other than a couple of readers pushing back a little on parts of my argument, the vast majority responded positively to what I wrote.

Exceedingly positive, in fact. Not only was the online response positive, but I had a multitude of people in real life thank me for the post, too. Apparently the average American had no problem with the commercial, and the stir was caused primarily by exceedingly woke Americans who feed on outrage culture like it’s their sole source of nutrition.

Not so surprising after all.

On Sunday I met someone during a bookstore appearance who had read the post and also approved. I thanked her and explained how I had expected to be eviscerated for my opinion.

“Then why do you do it?” she asked. She reads my blog daily and said that she worries about me. “I read you stuff and sometimes wonder if you don’t realize how annoyed or angry you’re making your readers. Sometimes even I get mad at you. Why post something if you think people will be mad about it?”

I told her not to worry. I explained that I’ve always been someone who almost can’t help but speak his mind, but thankfully, I’m also blessed with the ability to listen to and consider criticism without it bothering me very much. I can honestly count on two hands the number of times that someone’s criticism has stung.

That doesn’t mean that I simply disregard all criticism. I always read it, and in some cases, it has caused me to alter or entire flip my position. But when that criticism comes in the form of a scathing attack, a angry rant, a disappointed finger wag, vicious name calling, or anything else of the kind, I really don’t care.

Oftentimes I find the unhinged response or angry troll amusing.

This is why I often write something with the expectation that the digital mob will come after me with their torches and pitchforks. I hit the “publish” button with the expectation that people will not be happy. Their position may be challenged, and they may be confronted with an opinion that shocks or surprises or offends them, but I also fully expect that some of the responses will be rude, inappropriate, and possibly insane.

Sometimes, like past Saturday when I wrote my defense of the Peloton ad, I’m pleasantly surprised.

But as I said:

I can’t help but say what’s on my mind, and I really don’t care if anyone responds poorly to it.

I explained all of this to this woman at my book store appearance. She stared at me for a long, hard moment, and then she said, “It must be so hard to love you.”

It sounded harsh, but I understand what she meant. It’s probably not always easy for Elysha to watch the digital mob come after me. About a dozen years ago, a hateful, stupid, analog mob came after me, trying to destroy my career and my life, and I know that wasn’t easy on Elysha or myself.

But maybe the woman was just being mean. After describing myself and my position, maybe she determined that I was utterly unloveable. A wretched human being. A rotten, no good, very bad man.

If that was the case, I’m fine with that, too.

As I said, I really don’t care.