I'm not big. You've forgotten already, haven't you?

Poor dear.

I'm lean and hard and forged for endurance. Et tu?

And yes, I can't resist you. You. Me. Forever, as long as you can confine your communication to fewer than 792,000 daily syllables and never ever again opine about bears.

Now, tonight, think of me, as you close your eyes, but be careful when you kiss your husband, lest you let slip, "Oh, Bigguns!"

You. just. don't. get. it.

Take that time that you squander on slurs and cultivate some decency. You are living as a bigot, but you don't have to die a bigot. There's hope.

I share your repulsion and morbid fascination, although, at this point, it appears that Mau and I are cyber-dating and I expect she'll soon marry me, but it will have to be in MA, CT, or CA.

Since we're going to do the I do's, I just wish she wouldn't strip mine the Irish thingy. Imagine my having to hear that, night after night after night, just as we here at Salon have to read it day after day after day. She has few posts when she doesn't remind us, directly or obliquely, that she's Irish. No one knows where I live and that's because it's generally not germane. The horror, the horror, is her redundancy, her redundancy.

I wouldn't mind religious people if they didn't flaunt it.

I think religious people often take God's name in vain. If one prays for something and God doesn't answer, that appeal was made in vain. Or perhaps it's vain as in vanity, when one believes that God wants one to be rich, regardless of the choices that God as Jesus made regarding wealth.

Then there's Dole's secular vanity of America being the greatest nation on Earth. For a money lover like Dole, I would think that Norway would be the greatest nation on Earth, since every child there is born into wealth and freedom, as opposed to American children, who are born into debt and freedom, with the latter applying as long as one isn't gay.

...than Monica asserted that they were concerned with the truth and not sex.

Well, their reaction to Troopergate reveals that that assertion was a lie.

You're a good guy.

...dwarf fruit trees in my backyard. I also have about a hundred gallons of stored water, a big raspberry patch, and other berries. My garden feeds me in the summer and if I had too, I'd convert flower beds to veggie beds so that it would feed me in the winter too.

We've all seen how ineffectual the feds were in New Orleans. They're likely to be equally impotent again, if we were to need them.

I also know my neighbors, which is another way to survive calamity.

It's kind of you to try to lead Parson Jim out of bigotry. His cloaking of his bigotry with his assertion of free speech is like sprinkling glitter on a burn victim.

In both cases, you can stand back and say, "There! Isn't that all better? Isn't that pretty?"

But it's not. It isn't.

Love is hate.

War is peace.

And your beloved slurs are glorious, glorious free speech!

Oh, Oceania!

Oh, brave white man! Now, before I award you the Free Speech Freedom Medal of Freedom, I just have to confirm one teeny-tiny thing. You do use the n-word with folks of color, right? After all, freedom ain't free, Bush voter! Surely, free speech is worth fightin' for.

Or do you leave the fighting for free speech to people with backbone? Do you only stalk Broadsheet and pick cyber-fights with women? Is that the pathetic limit of your "free speech" courage?

One more thing: smart people misspell words. Heck, brilliant people misspell words. However, when you're arguing from ugliness, you might want to invest a little time in spelling well, for you present as not only someone who loves slurs, but an undereducated fellow who loves slurs.

Hey, I can write your rebuttal, slur lover: I kin spill wrds houevr I wnt. Freee speach! Faeeajl asdr q,il 3$y!

You are so wrong. Today I will plant little, white seeds in my garden. In a few months, my garden will abound with snow! Oh, I can make so many snow cones with melted snow! If you'd like, post your name and address and I'll send you some of these guaranteed, magic, white seeds * for only $199.95, plus shipping and handling! **

* Only guaranteed to grow snow in zones 6 and below!

** Another $199.95.

"Mental Condom" deserves a galaxy of red giant stars.

And thanks for the well wishes and the warning. I'll need both. Hemingway, in an especially gossipy slice of an especially gossipy book, "A Moveable Feast," Hemingway describes overhearing Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas swapping spit.

I imagine, if you were to overhear Mau and me, you'd hear Mau saying, again and again, "Who's your Mau-Mau?"

And that would be veriest mau-mauing!

P.S. - I too hope that Mau doesn't exist. I hope that Mau is just a persona, a bored guy in Georgia who scratches his boys, eats his Cheeze Noodles, and pokes us.

Oh, please do be Benjamin!

And yell, "Elaine!"

And then grab me and block with the door with a Celtic Cross!

Then we'll ride off on a bus, you all sweaty and me all pristine and you'll ask, "Who's your Da-da?"

And I'll reply, "Do you mean da-da as in 'daddy,' or are you talking about those crazy dada cats in the first quarter of the 20th century?"

And you'll see, "Oh, Bigguns, I love you!"

And I'll say, "I know."

then Opus's paradise must be people-free. This presents a problem, since we've swarmed the Earth. Space! The Last Penguin Frontier!

You know how Palin posed with her moose? Well, she should pose on a pile of amputated wolf legs. Smiling, of course. In a swimsuit! With dead wolf pups in each hand!!

That way she'd own what she's done.