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Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Debate!
Who
else wants to enter the Octagon? Let me know.
BOUTS. I know you think I don't pay attention to the peanut gallery, but I do. The only commenters who still have the energy to weigh in are Helk, Joe, and Urthshu. The rest of you have given up. Not on me, it appears, so much as on things in general. Traffic figures remain much as they've always been. But the once mighty mouths have fallen silent.
So. I'm going to try to wake you up. The ever-valiant Lake has agreed to debate me on the question of Hope vs. Despair. I will be arguing what so many of you obviously believe, that the great American Experiment is well and truly done for and all that's left to us is waiting for the ignominy of final defeat, humiliation, penury, and tyranny. Lake will argue that there's still hope for the clicheed American happy ending.
Here's how it will work. We'll each make an opening statement. He won't see mine, and I won't see his till he sends it to me -- and I promise to post it immediately without edits. Both opening statements will be posted together. Then we'll trade rebuttals, beginning with Lake's. These may be posted separately. We will go as many rounds as the point-counterpoint exchange requires. When we've exhausted our ammunition (by mutual agreement), Lake will get the last word because I always hate that talk show hosts get to hang up on difficult callers and do a victory dance over the dead phone line that can't answer back.
One more rule to keep things fair given my home court advantage. He's allowed to get personal with me. I'm not allowed to get personal with him. This one sounds like I'm being more gracious than I am; if I spent a whole day on it I couldn't come up with anything nastily ad-hominem to say about Lake. (Except for his perverted fondness for Tarantino and Louis CK. Which I won't mention when we get into the actual debate, even though it's obviously evidence of a kind of soul sickness that would be relevant if I weren't being so strictly non-ad-hominem. You know. Notice how the strikethroughs make everything look worse? Learned that from the MSM. Tee-hee. Lake doesn't stand a chance against me.) Although I AM allowed to characterize certain kinds of generational affinities I deplore that Lake might share. Are we clear?
Good. Fairness is everything.
If we're silent for a bit here then, it's because we're preparing our arguments. You're allowed to root for me or Lake, to kibbitz, and to flame either or both of us as you will. Because this really is all about you. If you're not interested, I won't be interested in being here much longer. That's the reason Lake was willing to enter my Octagon. He doesn't like my idea for a new and much milder blog called "My Little Acre." He also knows that this time I really mean it. I'm 59 fucking years old. I have to do stuff that makes me want to get up in the morning. Being a dancing bear for an audience of mimes ain't going to cut it.
If you want popcorn and soda, send me money. I've got enough yak fat, er, popcorn butter for everybody.
uh, go ahead and send me money even if you don't want yak fat on your popcorn. It's my birthday. I like money. Are we clear? Okay then.
If you don't like this clip, find something to put in your ears. I will be using it again. Why? Because I can.
