Door to door wolf tickler. Automobile didact. Father. Born: August 12, 1936, in Corfu, Indiana. Died: June 12, 2017 in Ibiza, North Carolina, of a broken heart, age 80.
Moishe Clements was an okay dad, I guess
I mean, he didn’t his six children oppress
He wasn’t really so much of a mess
All of that came later
The positions that were only ever pro tem
The attacks that came across all ad hominem
From a wicked heart did not stem
My dad learned to be a hater
The tragedy that befell Moishe Clements
Was that he read the comments
One day online he thought, “What can it hurt?”
To read a comment written by diedietherealdilbert
After an article about the negative health effects of yoghurt
He was a trusting soul, my pater
The commenter described in the vilest of terms
How the author of the article would be eaten by worms
It gave my father the most terrible squirms
To be exposed to such a lurid debater
Even the gentlest human, such remarks dements
All should know to refrain from reading the comments
Moishe stayed offline for three and a half weeks
To the strength of his resolve to be good, I think this speaks
For when “dangerous” writing one’s curiosity piques
It can warp even the strongest character
In the end, dad’s judgment, for his curiosity was no match
Reading more comments was an itch he had to scratch
This time he would read them in a batch
As if that would make them better
For the mind exposed to hurtful words, there are no refreshing mints
So, he should really have stayed away from the comments
Although it was something he couldn’t accurately gauge
The ugly retorts filled my father with rage
Even as he found himself continuing down the page
With the eagerness of an Irish Setter
Most of what he read made no sense
“Could these people really be so dense?
I mean, they don’t even know the difference between past and present tense!
I must write somebody a letter!”
We begged him, but dad would not relent
He just kept on reading the comments
On wicked messages did he feast
About women’s rights and the Middle East
About starving the poor and feeding the beast
All of the important issues of the day
Dad missed all the danger signs
And found himself responding to anger in kind
To the damage to his psyche he was totally blind
Much to the family’s dismay
To keep yourself from becoming a malign online presence
You really must avoid reading the comments
No issue too large, no personal foible too small
My father would respond to all
In his twilight years he heard the call
To argue his life away
Opening new trade routes, the closing of the American mind
Even when he knew nothing about a subject, he would an opinion find
As with increasingly extreme positions he became aligned
Waving all exhortations to reason away
Against this evil, don’t bother lighting incense
To save yourself just don’t read the damn comments
He wrote at length and he wrote often
Until he was the subject of another’s poison pen
One night he was attacked by denmother27
Boy, she really got his goat
Reading her screed, Moishe saw darkest black
But while he was planning on how to get her back
My father had a heart attack
And that was all she wrote
For Moishe Clements, it was too late to repent
But it’s not too late for you to stop reading the comments
The funeral will be held at three
At Gooderham & Worts cemetery
Please be on time – do not tarry
Rest assured that someone, somewhere will take note
Perhaps there is a lesson here for all
We do not have to heed the comments section’s siren call
For if we do it could be our funeral
And there will be plenty of people online to gloat
The future is not carved in cement
We do not have to read the comments
Tzipporah Clements
Tzipporah Clements was the third daughter of Moishe Clements. She is currently a third year Creative Writing major at York University, and one day hopes to become the next Calvin Trillin. That should make quite the story some day!