The Secret Behind Our “Suspiciously Positive” Comment Section

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If you’ve spent any time on our page dedicated to Farrah Fawcett, you may have noticed something that feels almost suspicious by modern internet standards: the comment section is… pleasant. Civil. Occasionally, even thoughtful. On social media, that alone can spark conspiracy theories.

The explanation is far less dramatic. For nearly four years, I’ve been quietly building what can only be described as a museum-grade filtration system. Every nasty, overly sexual, crude, or predictably edgy phrase that appears goes straight into Facebook’s hidden comment filter, and any new variation joins the archive. After years of refining it, the list is impressively extensive. Ultimately, this means that if someone believes they’re bravely firing a cannon shot across our bow, there’s about a 90–95% chance that cannon is aimed directly into a padded, soundproof room where it will echo unheard.

This system isn’t just about the usual trolls, either. We’ve also upgraded to detect the newest trend of online nonsense insisting that Farrah Fawcett was secretly a man, part of an internet rabbit hole commonly referred to as “transvestigation.” These claims are as evidence-free as they are repetitive. Unsurprisingly, the associated phrases have been added to the filter as well, where they now rest comfortably beside the other greatest hits of internet unoriginality, doing no harm.

And while we’re at it, I’ve also accounted for the modern-day woke cultural moral authority police brigade and their constant urge to reinterpret history through a contemporary, often warped, worldview lens. Their predictable commentary and revisionist zeal have joined the filter too—because if you’re going to rewrite history in 280 characters or less, do it on a page that actually cares. This page doesn’t.

That said, I don’t always hide everything. Over the years, I’ve written blog posts addressing many of the recycled accusations and well-worn troll scripts. Occasionally, I’ll leave a comment visible and respond with a link to one of those posts. There’s something analytically satisfying about countering noise and obnoxious losers with documentation. Trolls tend to expect outrage; they’re less prepared for footnotes and a rational response. And yes, every so often, a calm, public rebuttal provides a level of embarrassment that no filter ever could.

Despite all these built-in safeguards, I still spend time each day reading comments, replying to followers, and tidying up anything that slips through the social media cracks. The key difference now is efficiency. The filter does most of the heavy lifting, which means I spend less time wading through sludge and more time engaging with people who are actually here for the right reasons. That matters because even when attacks aren’t personal, steady exposure to negativity takes a mental and emotional toll. 

One of the more encouraging developments lately is that followers of our community now regularly message me to flag inappropriate comments and suggest blocking repeat offenders. Apparently, civility is contagious. When people see a respectful environment, they tend to defend it. Who knew?
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So if you’re wondering why you don’t see many negative comments, it’s not because they don’t exist—I can assure you, they are never in short supply. It’s because most of them never make it out of quarantine. Maintaining that standard takes consistency, a thick skin, and a well-fed filter database. But the result is a space that reflects admiration rather than chaos—and that seems far more fitting for Farrah’s legacy than giving the loudest voices the last word.

​Photo Credit: ABC Photo Archive, © 1978, used for educational/commentary purposes.