Old Enough to Croak

When a man who writes sci-fi stories about a political revolution through martial arts and violence tells you that you might be a little over the top, it's time to re-evaluate your stance on the issues. And maybe tone it down a little.


Still here.

Not dead, only dreaming.

Sorry to disappoint everyone.

No, the Men in Black didn't nab me, nor did the men in turbans. The men in truckstop bathrooms gave it a shot, but since I never stop for gas at those places anyway, they pretty much gave up.

Some of my humor is a little off-color, hey, I KNOW THAT. I'm not to everybody's taste. And if I feel strongly enough about something, chances are good that everyone within screaming distance will also know it.

As everybody can see, I did indeed remove the offensive post. No more nastybad talk about the Shrub getting his. No no, none of that. Come away from the bad zombie with the remarkable fez and exquisite taste.

And like the song says, I get by with a little nagging, ragging and outright shouting & throwing of things at me from my friends.

First Todd Ellner expressed his discontent sans winter, then Todd Erven got all self-righteous and biblical about it, Mushtaq allowed as how I might be suffering from delirium tremens, and several anonymous posters that I didn't even allow up gave me their unique and completely dismayed opinion of my subtle political stylings.

By the time Steve Perry weighed in, I was a whipped boy. So yes, I took it down. I backpedaled. I waffled. I swallowed what sub-atomic particles of my dignity remained and did the dance of contrition.

I feel SO sodomized.

This must be what Colin Powell feels like all the time.

For the record, I wasn't so much "Contrite" as "Subdued". Maybe "Silenced" would be closer to the truth. Or perhaps "Had the very will to live crushed out of me through my cojones like a testicular juicing machine of the damned". But the effect is still the same: I'm gagged worse than Vanessa del Rio at a frat party.

Mushtaq and I converse on where exactly I am fucking up...And how an airlock figures into my immediate future if I don't cool it.

By now you should realize that I didn't do this voluntarily, but will admit that they all had a point: Although I am preaching some righteous truth here, the current administration views this kind of stuff very dimly. So too, the last 42 administrations. Probably future administrations will also glance askew at me with that "tsk-tsk" look.

And we are living in the time when people disappear for this kind of thing. Be a shame to leave you all without sharing my recipe for curry and saffron rice. So many of you still drink Pabst Blue Ribbon...My work here is still unfinished!

A little political rewiring, and all those nasty feelings of indignation are gone, daddy gone!

Seriously, I want to thank everyone who put in their thoughts and advised me to calm down with the bullet-meets-president speech. I have listened to you, and heard what you said. And personally, I don't want to rot in a prison in South America because I advocated bloody vengeance against the new American symbol for impotence in human skin.

So I'll chill out with the calls to arms. But I do want to leave everyone with one last thought, one that I have been hearing in the back of my head recently, more and more every day:

"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible,
make violent revolution inevitable"

--John F. Kennedy