It seems you have failed to grasp a few fundamentals as you set off upon your new venture. This saddens many of us here at RBNS.
There is one reason and one reason only that you are tolerated, your typos excused, your flashes of entitled elitism forgiven, your dumb logic given a pass (see recent nonsensical theory about old people, reading glasses and cancer, and that old Botox = Roe vs Wade thing). And that's because your frenemy's legion of detractors like to imagine that you too have serious issues with Jackles. They have cheered you on, believing that you stood up to the ridiculous famewhore, that you opted out of her sick fame fantasy, that you refused to be publicly humiliated and chastised, and that you untangled yourself from her nasty, fake-nailed clutches in a triumphant and classy fashion that few have been able to pull off. (See Charles Forman's "celibrichauns with founder fetishes" rant, The Eater Guy's "Sugar Daddy" stunt, etc.)
If all of this turns out to have been just hopeful fantasy, Mary, your blog will be just another boring lifestyles blog that no one will read but your mother and the yacht captain. What do you think all the congratulatory comments of the past few days have been all about, for God's sake? It's been people praising you for cutting JA loose. Keep any mention of that demented harridan off your blog unless, at best, you're openly dissing her, or, failing that, dropping one of your legendary passive-aggressive stink bombs in her direction. Got it??
Rambo -- may I call you Rambo? It seems so appropriate now that you've threatened to shoot Owen Thomas's sack off -- the only narrative that is going to bring you any real success is to foster the belief that you broke free of the most despised nutcase on the Internet. You were setting yourself up so nicely, Rambs, and so subtly, to fashion yourself as a Web 2.0 heroine, vapidity and all. And today, what did you do? Major step backwards.
What you should have done, Rambo, is left an angry drunken voicemail for Owen Thomas ripping Jackles to shreds for her crap treatment of you. Come on, get it out. Spill it! You know you're pissed off! Everyone knows you're pissed off! You were fuming on the yacht, you were fuming after Dressgate, you were fuming at the Oscar screenings. And you would now be enjoying thousands more page views and would have earned yourself thousands more fans if you publicly let her have it. You could ride high in an enduring Internet mosh pit, with no one ready to let you fall to the ground for a long, long time, if you played this one right.
You have your ticket to success, Rambo, and it requires a major distancing from Jackles, and some dishing of dirt every now and again. Don't throw it all away on some hag who would sell you out so fast your peroxided head would spin -- and, in fact, has been making every attempt possible to sink you. Eye on the prize, Rambo!!!
The Fun Folks Here at RBNS