The Wonder of Unsolicited Advice

An almost friend of mine once told me, 'never cross the street for the express purpose of getting your ass kicked.' That's excellent advice and looks even better typed than it sounds when spoken, but I can pause for a second if you'd like to see (= hear) for yourself. Go ahead, I don't mind.

Anyway. At some point yesterday, because apparently we've ended all the wars in the world (to include those always tricky 'my God can beat up your God' ones), cured all the illnesses and diseases that have been the scourge of the planet since we first appeared, eliminated all unemployment (all hail the living wage!) and achieved Peace with Honor everywhere and always (you didn't get the memo?), someone decided to wax wroth about those capitalists at J.C. Penney. (due to budget cutbacks, please add your own 'doin' it right.')

You could guess all day (it felt as if I had) and never guess why. Because of this. Quick, someone get the UN High Commission on Crimes against Humanity to empanel a jury at The Hague while I round the miscreants up. A number of years ago, when our daughter, Michelle, was this little tiny person, so new to the world she thought I was someone smart who knew how to do stuff, I subscribed to The Dad Man (no dues, no meetings or secret handshakes. I found it very helpful). In more recent times, I've been involved with Girl Effect since I believe unless and until we start to treat women exactly as we treat men, all the other 'equality' concerns are just so much water down the plynth-work from macro to micro (I should put that on a shirt as opposed to a skirt).

I don't take myself seriously-so insisting I take you seriously even when (perhaps better phrased, especially when) you are egregiously stupid is not going to happen. You can be righteous or you can be indignant but you don't get to be both unless the carnage and catastrophe comes to my chin. And on-line that's not gonna happen so the outcome is more or less preordained.

What can I say that will not get my ass kicked? Turns out, nothing. On the 'news' forum where I read the story, I observed "My daughter has an 'I'm with Stupid' tee-shirt she wears when we go for walks. I should ask her to not wear that." Tactical error on my part as I gave dozens of newsies and shut-ins apoplexy for ten minutes or so as they raged like beardless King Lears (and Learettes for all I know). How dare I? Because my mother raised crazy children, not stupid ones (starting with Evan as it turns out), glad you asked.

I returned to the comments board later, after the mob had moved on to some other issue that didn't register on the Moot Import Meter, to correct spelling and grammar on all but two of the outraged posters' observations. I had cramps in my typing finger by the time I was done. The discussion about when I'm actually finished is still going on; death by e-mail sounds so nihilisticly neon.

I love this Brave New World. Lenina and Bernard will be thrilled at the discounts on those discontinued tee-shirts when they outfit their tribe of Gammas, Deltas and Epsilons. Nearly an entire Animal House minus any sense of humor- just like online.
-bill kenny