"If you enjoy believing that you touched a raw nerve by bringing up privilege, I can't stop you."

"If you enjoy..."

"Well, if that works for you..."

"Have at it."

These are phrases commonly used in Internet exchanges. They are rarely used in person because they're so aggressive.

"Class markers aren't restricted to male or female. Nor is reverse snobbery."

Of course not. You're tilting at s windmill.

"This is another attempt at distraction."

I never implied that class markers are restricted to male or female. I think that many people of both genders want to feel superior to others.

"In your last sentence, you sound distressed that this subject seems to privilege female over male discourse. Does it? You -could- take it as an opportunity to see yourself as you're see, or heard."

Here's what I think: I don't think Parson Jim gives a shit about men in general. I think he cares about himself and does so under the cover of fretting about men. Likewise, I don't think you give a shit about women in general. You care about yourself and do so under the cover of fretting about women. I think everyone is selfish. I think everyone is self-centered. I think many people, in conversation, try to use the other person as a rung. So, I'm a cynic, but you're no optimist, since you're seeing a windmilling dragon in me when I'm just trying to grind a little grain.

"other people aren't boring; you're just stupid

Clever people find everyone fascinating, even geeks who talk for days about obscure subjects. Stupid people find anyone who talks about anything outside their small window of interest boring. If you are often bored, chances are high that it's because you suck."

As I've stated in other threads, my bias doesn't split by gender, but by class and physical competence. I tend to admire people who can move more than a mouse and hammer something other than keys. I've hanged with rich folks. I've heard about their books and music, their architecture and vacation sites. I admire those people who write books, who compose music, who build grand structures, and and who fashion vacation sites out of rock and wood. In the end, I'd rather chat with somebody whose callused hands can craft a column rather than someone who can tell you the aesthetic influences of that column.

I apologize for the Parson Jim comparison. He was close and easy to spell, but that was careless and callous of me.

You wrote, "Now, it seems as if I'm the one who has hit a nerve."

"I am a Bigguns. Hath not a Bigguns eyes; hath not a Bigguns hands, organs, dimensions, senses, ... If you prick does the Bigguns, does she not bleed? If you tickle the Bigguns, does she not laugh?"

Sure, I'm stung. C'est la vie.

You wrote: "You don't know if I give a damn about other women or whether I hide behind it as a screen to make myself feel good and achieve my own ends."

You bet. And you bet again. I don't know you. You might be the exception, the person who's truly altruisitc. If you are, it's an honor to chat with you.

And sure, what I said reveals much about me.

I couldn't be franker than, "I'm a cynic."

And I'm not surprised we're fighting. You shop in Italy. I assumed that you did, from the beginning, from your tone, your references, your prose. It's not that I don't have rich friends. I do. I have rich friends and I have famous friends, but I'm wary. They think I'm cute. I think some of them see me as a confection...to be consumed. So, in the end, I'd rather drink coffee with some security guard than shop in Italy. I feel safer with that security guard and it's not because of his baton.

My preferred way of considering a topic is to occupy the idea. To come full circle, people who only speak hypothetically bore me. I dissect myself. I am doc and corpse. And if I wave a figurative scalpel at you, I hope I've earned that by showing a little of my squishy cerebral cortex.

Hey, thanks for the love. Back at ya.

And here's back at you specifically: I admire people who work hard for everything they have.

And I also hate human waste...and I'm not talking about shit. Like you, there's something far shittier than shit and that's limiting human beings.

I hope he's talking about an MA wedding and he's just grousing about that.

"This Celtic season is shaping up to be the classic fairy tale where the talented and noble heroes get the crap beat out of them early in the story and have summon up that inner will to win against the odds. Cool stuff."

The Celtics won the weak East.

They barely beat Atlanta.

They barely beat Cleveland.

They were sure to lose to Detroit.

L.A. was prettier, slicker, quicker, and sexier. L.A. in five (Sorry, King. I wouldn't poke you if you weren't such a big boy.)!

Ni**er.

I especially like this line: "He kills his wife, cuts off his son's right hand and dresses like Condoleezza Rice."

But I'd put God at number one. He poorly designs us, can't find it in his allegedly all-loving heart to forgive his design flaws, cleaves a kid from him, has us torture that kid, and only then is all peachy.

Sorry, W, your dad slides to number two.

His daughter died.

No funeral.

They didn't fly the body back to Texas.

George and Babs went golfing the next day.

W didn't even know that his sister had been sick.

Now, that's sick. Even sicker than neocons who still worry about Clinton's wayward semen.

I nominate every fundy/neocon dad who has a gay kid and still votes against that kid.