Wednesday, April 25, 2007

It Has to Have A Limit....

A number of things have happened which are suitable cairns for this last entry [at least for a while] by Bummer.

First, blogs are passe. Everyone wants video now. I'll figure that vid thing out sometime in the next few years, but since spare time is at a premium ... ne jugez pas votre respirent (comme les types principaux disent).

Second, the thuggery of the main stream media is now a staple, regulary covered in the alternative media. (I used to criticize O'Reilly for his apologetic coverage of Rather; now, tune in to his show and you'll see he's now become one of the B23!). Whatever limited purpose this blog served in serving up some exclusive legal analysis on the RatherGate and BergerGate affairs, etc., the alternative media now regularly covers the transgressions.

Third, that last post jumped the shark. Time to exit just as the banana shows its first brown spot.

Fourth, Bummer is unbelievably busy.

Fifth, Bummer is gettin' some now.

Sixth, Bummer will be back. Somewhere, someday. I hope the B23 recognize Bummer when he does his phoenician thing.

So you mind if I sign off with this ?

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. "Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

He didn't say any more, but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men.

Most of the confidences were unsought — frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions.

Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don't care what it's founded on. ...