Everything is offensive. There’s no plainer way to put it. There is no topic that can be brought up that is universally inoffensive.
“What about a box of cute newborn puppies?” A voice in my head asked, when I first conceived the opening paragraph.
“Gotta do better than that head voice,” I said. “Try to fight this: ‘Cute, but that breed shits on the floor, no matter how hard you teach ‘em not to. How dare you rekindle that memory.’”
“Okay. How about World Peace and True Love? Surely no one can complain about them,” my head voice said; for it was a stubborn head voice that needed to be smacked on the nose more than once.
“Munitions manufacturers will find something wrong with the first and the second does not exist. Go away, head voice.”
Case closed.Continue reading “Week 327: Twenty-six Ways to Weave Your Drunkard”