The poor dear does mean well, but he invited me to (1) do coke, and (2) gang-rape a college girl.
I had to explain, very gently, that many women—those who think they are anti-feminist, those who are merely equity feminists, and those who are FMJ capital-F Feminists—aren’t down with rape. Furthermore, I told him, those of us who have allergies and pulmonary issues are not interested in cocaine, as a general rule.
He seemed hurt, and now I feel kind of bad. Poor thing.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
.
He must be nuts. Getting worse even, spiraling down. He just can’t help himself. He should just resign himself to writing fiction, and be happy with that.
.
here’s an absurd thought –
your Supreme God says
always respect journalists
who claim fiction as facts
but won’t write a novel
.
More kernels of truth than the New Republic ever hazarded.
Mr. Glass then caught a cab, hoping to make it to the local morgue for a quickie.
That reference is… what? Thirteen years old? Awesome!
I missed CPAC this year. Too broke and nobody to pay my way this time. I saw you on blogger row last year, but I was much too intimidated to introduce myself. I’m such a putz.
Oh, good, you didn’t break the Glass. That’s what I thought when I read your head.