Friday, January 06, 2006A Special Message To Pat Robertson
I'm not one to wish bad things on people, truly. I make a special effort to consciously wish good things even for my most irritating enemies (of which there are blissfully few.) I believe that while some people are less successful at it than others, all of us are individually doing our best to get through this confusing life, and I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt as far as I'm able.
So, in saying what I'm about to say, I acknowledge that I'm giving in to the less admirable aspects of my nature.
You, Mr. Robertson, at nearly 76 years old, are an elderly man. Even under the best circumstances, the end of your life is approaching. One day -- probably one none too distant -- some major illness or catastrophic injury will befall you, bringing you within scything range of the reaper.
And when that day comes, Mr. Robertson, providing God has not already harshly punished me for living my own life as I thought best, I will laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
PS: Why does it seem like the top half of your head has suddenly become so much larger than the bottom half? I could swear it didn't used to be like that.
Look for yourself:
Pat Robertson, then
Pat Robertson, now