Originally posted on marching to the beat of my own crayons:
the loving parents of injustice….
I have certainly been guilty of breaking my own resolve, but I generally avoid internet “comment” opportunities and the like. Despite frequent claims to the contrary, such environs are not reservoirs of intellectual stimulation and discussion. Those who never launched a stream of mother-cuts and other character disembowelments as a kid have no business entering such places. That would be like Mr. Peepers barging into a biker bar.
Owing to my partially misspent youth, I am credentialed to frequent such seedier loci, and have done so, at least until I realized that the experience always felt like “déjà vu”, the reason being that the regulars either were fourteen years old, or middle aged with severely arrested emotional development, a bona fide diagnosis, or both.
Anyway, I suppose I needed a refresher course or something because this morning I found myself inexplicably staring at the invitation…
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