Ahh-that dialectic about the good guy, and the bad guys–if only they could spell the word chartreuse (and, admittedly, even I have a hard time spelling the word chartru….chartreu….whatever! you get the idea!!!!!!!!! And, I am still a good guy, TRUST ME.)
Morons are so black and white all the time. Like the White Sox. Maybe that’s why I was always a Cubbies fan-more color in their logo, or something.
But baseball, old rivalries, and team sports sure gets the testosterone charged amongst us all riled up. Like chimps, patrolling the perimeters of their own, known boundaries–and using us as foils to do so!
Anyhoo–how about those Bears? They don’t come here for the hunting, do they? It’s the fishing that cranks their shafts.
I think some of them probably need a baseball bat to the face–after all, no one that I know of has yet investigated their law enfarcement cliques deep enough to figure out the answer to the question ” exactly HOW do Chicago gang members GET guns anyways??”
And, many of them laugh at how disposable people like me are–and people like Renate Vettleson too.
Strike ONE! Strike TWO!
Anyways–yesterday, I discovered a web post that quoted me, and then, threatened me with a baseball bat, Sure–of course, the web is so anonymous and all that I can never prove that I was 1) threatened-it would take an army of pimple faced gamers to help me prove it, and 2) words are just words, internet links are plethora, right? and of course 3) I am a disposable person, like others whom I have had the joy to know–and even then, I wasn’t present enough, protected enough, protective enough, or believed in what I say enough, to save an Ophelia from police state gangstalking, and the absolute garbage that they enlist to prove their cases of moral right and moral wrong.
Such are the limitations of being human, and being human despite the narratives of power directed at your hind quarters. After all, the ‘men are rapists’ meme has more power than I can contend with each and every time it is directed at me, or others who can prevent suicides by vulnerable, yet beautiful and frail persons.
Anyhoo–just for this guy–I hope you meet the bat that you wished upon my face. If I was a coward–like you–I would greet you with one next time you came to my door. But, like last time, and the time before, and the time before?
I will meet you barehanded, or in court.
But preferably, barehanded as you invade my home again–because, as the law, my lover knows? I can kill you herein, without mercy. Here–and only here do I become a killer, with your head splayed wide open, at the foot of my daughter.
And please–find the courage, lads or ladies, to come alone, barehanded as I am so that when you wind up in the alley face down like a bloated dead squirrel? Protect at least the truth–that you came here for that–sans butties who will brick the truth into a lie, or cover your cowardly ass with thin blue pinstriping.