Little side note here: when posting the link to the LA Times op-ed piece below here, I initially went off on quite an angry little tangent about puritans of the left and right, how they're a bunch of power-hungry little money grubbers with the brains of suet, the hearts of six week old cat shit, and the souls of East St. Louis pimps, etc, etc, ad nauseum.
But, in looking at it, I saw that it was only making the intro a lot longer and harder to read for whatever poor reader who looked at the thing, and cut out a lot of that crap.
Then, I thought, I'll have one of my occasional literary explosions here, where I try to tear everything and everyone in the Known Universe a new arsehole.
Well, started in on that, and, right away, started in on the insults(Tell ya the truth, I laugh more than half the time when composing those. Why??? One Helluva mean sense of humour is my immediate answer. That, and have always had a good ear for a choice piece of invective).
After a few minutes, and I don't remember precisely why, but I laughed and decided to cancel the impending literary-political-cultural volcanic explosion, because it just seemed silly and unnecessary to me.
Hell, I even congratulated myself, and still am, on at least having grown up enough to realise that that kind of shit doesn't really do much good, even if it provides for fun venting.
But, what may be fun venting for an essay's author can also be tiresomely self-indulgent and boring reading for anyone who encounters such a piece, so, so much for that.
Then, and you're looking at the end product of this process here, I decided to pen a self-congratulatory essay about how I'd decided NOT to write such a piece of drivel, and so, here you are, reading THIS piece of drivel.
OK, it's self-indulgent, self-congratulatory, and entirely un-merited, and, yes, I managed to throw in a few insults about ding-dong(The Wicked Witch Is Deeaaaddd!!!)puritans in the bargin, as well as lotsa self-referential "irony"(or is it mere sarcasm???)about the whole damned process.
No matter. Am proud of myself for not having inflicted one type of self-indulgent piece of shit scrivening upon the world, even if I ended up inflicting another type in the bargin.
My point being???? You know, I forgot my point, if I ever had one, that is. Oh, well. Must be that pre-mature senility catching up with me, or maybe it's just plain stupidity. You decide.
Anyway, to quote Ian Shoales from the old Duck's Breath Mystery Theater, "I gotta go."
Be seeing you.