It’s the Hate-Mailer, a lower invertebrate Francis W. Porretto describes thusly:
I’m certain their stations in life are low and tawdry because hate-mailing me, a relatively minor player in Blogdom, is the best use they can make of their time. Therefore, they must have nothing constructive to which to turn, and no wholesome pleasures to enjoy in preference. I severely doubt they have any achievements to be proud of. They certainly can’t write.
Beyond that, they’re pusillanimous beyond belief. Not one of them ever leaves a valid email address. Inasmuch as a conservative Catholic such as I would be highly unlikely to “reply in like fashion,” that implies an incredible degree of cowardice. It conjures up images of my hate-mailers jumping onto tables and shrieking at the sight of a mouse.
I must point out here that the most vicious letter I ever received did have a valid return address; I did respond to the fellow, and by about the fourth exchange we were, if not exactly friends, at least decently civil to one another. But this is clearly the exception, not the rule. You should see some of the horrible stuff Michelle Malkin gets. Better yet, you shouldn’t.
So we arrive at a picture of the hate-mailer as a person of no attainments, little intelligence, no courage, and a foul mouth, whose life is empty of challenges and opportunities, and whose pleasures, if he has any, must be so crude and contemptible that he hides them in the basement.
Sort of like Rahm Emanuel without the charisma.
Still, we must assume that such people serve a purpose in the divine plan. Certainly it’s impossible to sustain a respectable inferiority complex in the presence of such feckwits.