Ghandi had his critics too. I believe they were called “the English.” I’m not comparing myself to Ghandi - despite his impressive record of accomplishments, I’m better looking – but we do share something in common: Persecution by an Englishman.
I don’t know what started the whole flap F.M.S. has going with Half-Fast these days. Like most of you probably assume, I’m the innocent victim of an unprovoked attack. It appears that Vanilla has taken my “words” and interpreted them “literally” to mean exactly what I “meant” to say. Figures. I would expect nothing less from that guy. If you can’t count on someone to misunderstand perfectly worded sarcasm, what can you count on?
I was on my flight to lower Cameroon to bring internet access to nippleless Cameroonian orphans* when I was texted the news of the shameful Vanillian attack on yours truly. By the time we landed, I was in a full panic thinking about the possibility that the orphans, recently connected through a rudimentary dial-up connection, might have stumbled upon Half-Fast and been mind poisoned by his truthfully slanderous comments. I rushed to rip the phone line from the 56k coconut tree.
Too late. I could see from their tear-filled orphan eyes that, besides the whole missing mother and father thing, they had just been handed their worst swift, bloggy punch to their foodless guts.**
“Why does Mr. Vanilla hate you St. Nitmos?” Frung-nuk clucked in Cameroonish.
“Is his heart blackened by all the Pandas he waterboards?” asked Wani-luk.
“Vanilla used to be my favorite baking extract but now…now…it’s chocolate.” sobbed Nitmette.***
I promised the children that my work would go on. Of course, it’d be more difficult and slower now due to the time needed to defend myself from Vanilla’s mean-spirited, llama-esque attacks. Once dial-up is established, we were going to work on high speed….and then wireless. Followed by nipple-forming plastic surgery. And then planting crops for food. Now, it’ll be doubtful if we can get the wireless established before starvation kicks in. Forget even about the nipples. Nice going Vanilla!
As I sat on my nippleless Cameroonian orphan chair, drumming my fingers on the foreheads of the two designated armrest orphans, I considered the best way to respond. I could engage in childish name calling and match fire with fire (dickwad? toolbag? really?). I could turn the other cheek, demand an unwarranted apology, and engage in an attention seeking hunger strike. Or I could respond by placing myself even further on a pedestal (can you all even see my feet anymore?) and make thinly veiled potshots all the while attempting to appear high minded and above the fray. I chose the latter two. Except, I won’t be doing the hunger strike, per se. The orphans will handle that. They’re used to it.
I definitely won’t be engaging in name calling either. That’s too, I don’t know, English somehow. Instead, I thought I’d dangle an olive branch in an attempt to bring this whole kerfuffle to a resolution. We must have common ground. It’s just a matter of finding it. Hmmm, let’s see…
America. Born here, raised here. Looks up to George Washington.
England. Born there, raised there. Thinks Benedict Arnold is a “team player.”
Helping orphans through computer networking and basic furniture creation education.
Depriving orphans of basic needs. And wearing Panda skin suits.
Doing his part for the national and world betterment through important volunteerism.
His career in the world economy strangling banking industry. Finds your depreciating home values “funny.”
Cuddling puppies and kittens.
Punting puppies and kittens for height and distance.
Well, I’ll have to continue to make a list because clearly there’s still no common ground. I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep to the high road. My new motto is “I’ve never made persecution look so good!”
I suggest you visit Half-Fast and let Vanilla know how much you like George Washington also and ask why Vanilla, the banker, hates America. For my Canadian friends, I say “Go Team North America!” High five!
Now back to constructing my wholly original post – in my unique bullet point style – about my latest weekend escapades…Run well and drink well.
* Carrying forward the work of Ghandi
** Oh, yeah, they are hungry too. One thing at a time people.
*** Don’t ask.