Reagan’s Dead

And it gets you thinking about the number of things that could have been handled differently in the 80s that would have prevented the world we deal with now. But, hindsight is 20/20…

Except of course that same hindsight is now painting Reagan as some kind of perfect compassionate conservative. You know what? I really don’t care about anything in this particular blog so far, so I’m gonna drop it. Go read Salon.

I drove off one of Ian’s readers by being, y’know, me, and I hate to admit how good it feels. Man, I was such a prick at one point, constantly driving people to the brink of hostility and then, usually, over. When I think of the things I did as a kid, and when I think of the things I could still be doing if I weren’t constantly manically trying not to be a complete dick, it boggles the mind. I spend more energy trying to not be bad than I do trying to be good. I’m a grumpy fucker with no patience.

Here’s the deal. I’ve had a pretty easy life, I don’t have any kind of monopoly on suffering or circumstance. There is a way that man is meant to live, and that way includes access to happiness, love, food, sex, and space, (along with a bunch of other things), and when someone tries to control what other people do in their minds or bedrooms or whatever, it makes me insane. Not only am I in favor of abortion, I’m in favor of corporal punishment, I’m just this side of believing that might makes right. And I have no patience for whining moralists who try to claim that behavior, without consideration of intention, is evil.

You can say I don’t understand what it is to be truly hungry, to be truly desperate, and maybe you’re right. But the difference is, I’m not the one saying you *should* pray, you *should* work harder, you *shouldn’t* fuck who you want, when you want to. I’m the guy saying, “whatever you do with me is fine, as long as you can handle the consequences.” You know when you’re on the train and some woman is beating her child and some other woman (with no children) is giving her a dirty look? I’m the one giving the judgement passing, no-child-having sack of shit a dirty look, Maybe that kid *needs* to be beat, you don’t know. Had I been beat more as a kid, maybe I’da graduated from college.

That’s it. You don’t know. You don’t know the circumstances, and if you don’t know, then shut the fuck up.

Anyway. I’m sorry, Ian, that I ran off a reader, but I’m not sorry to the reader. She can swing on Deez.