Nobody kicks a dead dog (2014)

Photo Credit : Shutterstock

My job isn’t much different than that of a preacher.

Well, aside from the content of our words (mine can be a little more risque and biting while theirs are inspirational and spiritual.)

And, the gravitas of our positions.

And, the robe.  I can’t pull off the robe.

Okay, so maybe it is different.

However, we go out every day, put ourselves out on stage, perform a little to get people’s attention, and hope the things we say will create some sort of positive emotional impact with our audience.

Maybe the biggest difference between a guy with a microphone in a radio studio and a (wo)man standing at a pulpit is that while it takes a special kind of heathen to tell a (wo)man of the cloth they stink, the various ways we’ve given the audience to connect with us in broadcasting makes hurling an insult as simple as whipping out a cell phone and hitting “send.”

I hate to give credit to the existence of trolls by writing a piece about them, but they’re one of those things that any of us who work in the media seem to face.

On Sunday, CTV National News anchor Lisa LaFlamme had one such troll hurl an insult at her on Twitter, and she shut him down (much to the celebration of her followers.)


My buddy Seth Armstrong at Saskatoon’s Rock 102 FM also had a bout with a text messaging tough guy a few months ago, taking the conversation from the keyboard to the air.

On Wednesday morning, I had one particularly ugly texter try to get my goat as we talked on the show about a number of topics.  It was a pretty lighthearted show, in fact, including the story about the US snowboarder who wanted to take home a whole bunch of stray dogs from Sochi (posing with the puppies for a picture that’ll make his current fans swoon and newcomers go gaga), and the awesome Aurora Borealis display the night before (it was amazing!)


Unlike Lisa or Seth, I left the texts alone.  In fact, we have the luxury of being able to send them to a digital garbage bin – which is where crap like this belongs.  Not because I didn’t have a comeback, but because I’ve grown to believe the best response is no response at all.

Some experts, like digital mastermind Seth Godin, make it a personal rule not to expose themselves to negativity.  In The Icarus Deceptionhe talks about how writers (in particular) look to reviews and blog comments not to determine the economic success of their work, but rather (to their detriment) feed their egos.

…I realized what I was doing with the comments and reviews I was reading.  I would read thirty of them, and twenty-nine would be positive (sometimes extraordinarily so) and one would be a direct hit job, a brutal takedown of who I was and what I was trying to do.  And for the next few days, all that my lizard brain would let me think about was the bad one…

…I was amplifying the negative at the expense of the positive, not to serve any useful function, not to make my writing better, but to destroy it…

…I haven’t sought out and read a review or tweet since.  This is not cowardice; it’s the act of someone who wants to keep writing and is determined to do it for an audience of his choosing.  Shun the nonbelievers…

(Excerpt from Seth Godin’s “The Icarus Deception.”)

Unfortunately, in my line of work, you don’t have to go seeking out the negative.  It gets delivered to the studio in real time – on a big, bright LCD screen.  Like a heckler in a comedy club, they’re right there in front of your face.

Seth Godin’s advice about “shunning the nonbelievers,” is the right tactic.  But, sometimes, you need another tool in your arsenal to get past the negativity staring you in the face.  That’s where I lean on the legendary Dale Carnegie.

In his 1948 book “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living,” Carnegie wrote a piece titled, Nobody Kicks a Dead Dog.  The story is about how roughly two decades earlier, a “boy wonder” had become president of the University of Chicago at the tender age of 30.  Criticism of the young academic came from all sides – and a friend of the boy’s father told the man how shocked he was at the horrible things being said.

“Yes … it was severe, but remember that no one ever kicks a dead dog.”

Yes, and the more important a dog is, the more satisfied people get in kicking him.

When you are kicked and criticized, remember that it is often done because it gives the kicker a feeling of importance. It can often mean that you are accomplishing something and are worthy of attention. Many people get a sense of savage satisfaction out of denouncing those who are well educated, forthright, or functioning in a contributing manner with work, friends, and the task of intimacy…

“…If you get your head above the crowd, you’re going to be criticized. So get used to the idea.”

Make it a rule to do what you can and put up your umbrella to let the rain of criticism drain off of you instead of running down your neck.

(Excerpted from Dale Carnegie’s “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living”)

Combining the advice of Godin and Carnegie, I’ve come up with my own personal guidance for dealing with trolls.  Don’t go looking for the negative, and when it lands square in your face, consider the source.  A response might make you feel better, but it achieves nothing in the long run.  Head up, eyes forward, onward.

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.

– Dr. Seuss

In the ultimate example of being handed a heckler and making heckler-ade, I leave you with the hilarious Deepak Sethi.  His takedown of a big mouth at a comedy club in Las Vegas went viral a few weeks ago.  While not my tactic, it is entertaining and fits his craft.  (Note : some may be offended by the language.)

If you’re on my side of the microphone, I’d love to hear how you’ve learned to live with and deal with the texting tough guys and social media sadists.


Featured image credit : Shutterstock

20 years online

In 1994, Mark Zuckerberg was 10 years old.  The Google guys were still in university.  And at a computer fair in Calgary’s Stampede Park, the 14 year old version of me was working hard trying to convince my Dad why we should get on the Internet.

This wasn’t my first flirtation with the “information superhighway.”

Through the early 90s, I’d run the demo of Radio Shack’s primitive PC-Link online service on my Tandy computer, wishing I was connected to the rest of the world.  My parents, however, wouldn’t pay the freight.  There was no local access number, and besides – what could I find out there that I wouldn’t be able to see down at the local library?

My first "real" computer - A Tandy 2500 (or something like that.)  / Image source :
My first “real” computer – A Tandy 2500 (or something like that.) / Image source :

When we bought our first computer with a modem in 1993, I tried dialling around to a number of free Calgary BBSes (bulletin board services for the young’uns), but I was stopped dead in my tracks when I realized many of them were filled with ASCII porn, risqué personal ads, and Dungeons and Dragons talk (well before I ever got hooked on strategy games.)

I’d later try hopping online with Compuserve.  Because our computer was a bit on the slow side, it was text-only Compuserve – but it presented a world full of information that was shiny and new to me.

After a few days online (and of reading the manual that came with the Compuserve disks outlining all the different services and the astronomical costs attached to them), I’d end up having nightmares of inadvertently accessing premium features or booking a plane ticket, in the process ringing up hundreds of dollars in charges on my Dad’s credit card.

While I never did ring up hundreds of dollars in Compuserve charges, I was enough of a worry wart that I convinced my Dad to pull the plug.  He thought it was funny I’d fret like that, but he agreed to shut down the account.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thanks for the nightmares, Compuserve!
Thanks for the nightmares, Compuserve!

Then in the spring of 1994, I started reading about the Internet in various magazines.   I was intrigued at how – unlike Compuserve – everything was free.   All you had to do was find an Internet service provider, pay for a connection, and then “surf.”

However, in 1994, getting on the Internet wasn’t as simple as calling your local phone or cable company, and you couldn’t look under “I” in the Yellow Pages.  The ‘net was still primarily the domain of geeks, and ads for different service providers were typically only found in magazines – like the bible of Canadian computing, The Computer Paper.

And that takes me to the computer fair in Stampede Park.  I learned about it in the magazine, and begged Dad to take me.

There were Internet service providers at every turn in the convention centre – many with futuristic names which seemed to fit brave new digital era we were (about to be) living in.  




Some of the companies resorted to having busty models roam the show floor in skin-tight latex dresses, trying to lure horny (and lonely) geeks to their booth.  Others offered free food and drinks (which also can lure lonely and hungry geeks to a booth.)

Cybersurf Internet Access homepage, circa 1997
Cybersurf Internet Access homepage, circa 1997.  Sadly, the source ( doesn’t have a version from 1994.

My dad and I eventually ended up at the booth for a company called “Cybersurf Internet Access” (or CIA for short.)  While there might not have been half-naked women flanking their showfloor space, they did have a computer set up with a live connection to the net.  And my eyes were glued to the screen.

The CIA salesperson showed us some of the highlights of the web – how CBS had just set up a homepage where you could read David Letterman’s “Top Ten” lists, how some newspapers were offering information online, and how you could do research for school papers.  I was hooked, and my Dad was convinced.

We bought a kit that day for CIA’s service – a package with about 300 hours which would have to last the year at a price tag of about $250.  I was excited.  My Mom, less so.  (“What did your father buy you now,” she asked – half-jokingly – when we got home.  I always liked Saturday shopping trips in the city with my Dad.)

What was unique about Cybersurf was that unlike all Internet providers I’d ever use after, CIA offered what they called a “Virtual T1” service.  Today, we’d call it a remote desktop connection – but at the time, it was revolutionary.

All your Internet applications lived on their end – web browsing, e-mail, Archie, Veronica, gopher, telnet … you name it, they had the apps installed and kept up to date.  All you had to do was dial in.

I miss the days of Gopher, Archie and Veronica.  But not their usability.
I miss the days of Gopher, Archie and Veronica. But not their usability. (Image source : )

Because there were only so many hours of Internet for the year, I was always mindful of the clock.  Many days, spending an entire hour online seemed like an eternity.  Today, that can pass in the blink of an eye.

The Internet of 1994 was a distinctly different experience from today.  Web pages were primarily coded by hand – not generated by databases.  Dropping an e-mail to whoever was responsible for a website usually ended up netting you a new friend in the process.  And, admiration – not SEO – was the motive for linking to another’s online creation.  It was a very different time, and the content reflected that.

In my circle of friends, I was that kid – one of the first on the block to get Internet access.  When people would come over to hang out, the Internet was a mild distraction – but one that wouldn’t last for long before we’d head off to watch TV or otherwise get in trouble.

Our family ended up getting transferred from Calgary before we could use up all the hours we bought with CIA, and I’d move on to my second ISP (and one of my first jobs) with Harvest Moon Technologies in Yorkton.   But to this day, I still have fond memories of how quaint and special those early days were online.

I actually have a copy of this book in my collection.  I should post some excerpts one day - it's quite funny all these years later!
I actually have a copy of this book in my collection. I should post some excerpts one day – it’s quite funny all these years later! (Source :

It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years.  What are some of your early Internet memories?  I’d love to hear your stories.