I logged on tonight and saw a story raising questions about why Jesse Jackson was inserting himself into the Schiavo case and the Michael Jackson trial. I was spewing venom. A minister without portfolio? Marble mouth in heat? A reverend without a cause?
Then a tiny voice sounded somewhere where conscience should lie.
"Why shouldn't Jesse speak?" the voice said.
Because he's a vapid, passe imbecile without the sense to shut up, I replied.
"Oh?" and a mocking silence.
Yeah, I mean this lipster lost it about the time he decided to appoint himself ambassador to Iran. I'm on a self-righteous toot, you see. I am seeing red and hoping for the taste of blood.
"Et tu?" the voice said.
What about me?
"Let he who is without blog cast the first stone," said the calmness.
And it hit me. I'm just jealous. When I pop off I have to create an audience. Jesse gets one just for being himself. We blogsters only aspire to be Jesse.
Aw, beans. It's no fun being honest.
Hey, Jesse. Yeah, you of sloppy diction and even sloppier distinctions. Sit down and shut up. Schiavo's constitutional issues are too dear to be traded upon by a two-bit populist in search of a following. And don't even try to pretend the Jackson case is a drama about race. Give it a rest, already.
Ah, ... I do feel better.