Look, I love to talk and make a speech as much as the next guy—
I totally get just letting it all come out, and I’m not telling you how to be. But, come on. I’m not a toilet seat cover. I’m not here to be your buffer, you know? I wasn’t designed to be your delicate scented candle, man. You launch poo out of your mouth, fine, I’m fine with that, but stop trying to act like everybody else should be fine with that. Some people have higher standards or lower thresholds than me, man. I’m way laid-back and entirely deaf in one ear, you know? I’m all about the Freudian slip. The bald-faced lie. The nonsensical meandering barely tethered to reality tale told by a three-year-old or a lawyer. But come on, man. You’re gonna get me evicted and fired from my corner office and cozy home. I’ll lose my constitutional rights and privileges. And then, where are we? And then who saves you?
"Don’t try and invoke the Power of Prayer—she has her hands full and is way more undependable than me, man. "
Invoking the powers that be? That’s a no-no—
When it comes to saving and who’s gonna save you, don’t say Jesus. No, don’t do it. Don’t try and invoke the Power of Prayer—she has her hands full and is way more undependable than me, man. I don’t get it—people swear by her, but she’s a tilt a whirl. All about you and your needs one minute, then poof, vanishes like magic the next. I mean, she is magic, just amazing. I mean, OK, I totally get it, why people swear by her. It’s just when she turns her back on you, and you get frustrated and can’t stop yourself from blurting out something that implies that she’s unstable . . . Don’t ever, like never ever, call her unstable. OK? Things go sideways fast, you know? Of course, we still run into one another, given our natural states and given roles and how sometimes we’re confused or lumped together, but it’s icy and dicey, man. Yeah, it hurts, and that’s the point. Do as I say, not as I do. First-hand experience here, and I’m the one who’s here for you, man.
So, let’s make a deal—
You say something horrifying—something about your right and privilege to grab something on somebody’s body—now hear me out, of course, it’s not horrifying to you or me, but somebody takes issue with it. When you wage your defensive tactics and maneuvers, here’s the deal—don’t directly mention me. Got that? Say something like, “That’s not fair . . . blah, blah, blah . . . I know my rights!” And that’s it. That’s plenty, and—no, you don’t actually, literally have to know all your rights—the offended parties will infer the rest. I live like two doors down from Freedom of the Press; we share a constitutional floor in the first amendment wing. I’ve watched them take the slightest whisper of implied displeasure and whip it into a tsunami of direct threats. There’s all sorts of collateral damage, but do they care? Of course not. I’m the one left sifting through the shrapnel-filled wreckage.
Furthermore, the fine point—
If I’m implied, I don’t care. If I’m inferred, I don’t mind. But if I’m conjured, that’s when I flip, man. You know what it feels like to be conjured? You know what it feels like to chew tinfoil? Yeah, like that except you’re not chewing anything, and your jaw parts are getting pried too far away from each other, and then you’re seconds away from swallowing your tongue, and, right, I’ll stop there, leave the rest to your imagination. I mean, I’m Freedom of Speech, not Freedom of Frenzy. And there’s a lot going on in my hood, we’re shut up in here—you know I’m like two doors down from Freedom of the Press. I can smell it from here, nasty rotting gangrenous heap. Just the same. It’s a good gig, and neither of us wants me to lose it.
So, we understand each other?
Summing up, going over the broad strokes (heh-heh, yeah, I said broad and strokes) in one heap: Don’t call on me when you get in a hot panic over someone’s misinterpretation of your good intentions. Cause, come on, man, of course, I understand you. Of course, I understand how well-intentioned and well-meaning you are. You’re good people; I know that. I respect you. That’s why I used my code name for you, ‘certain people.’ I’m on your side. Of course, I am. But, come on, up to a point. At some point, let’s face it, even I get uncomfortable. I know, it’s true, I am worried about my job. But no, that’s not all I care about. It’s that as a last line of defense I have to be used wisely, you know? OK, or used sparingly.
Fine.
Right.
Good talk.
