Makes You Want To Cringe

Last night, my daughter said something that stunned me. We were watching something on tv that had nothing whatsoever to do with her statement. She said, "Daddy, I'm not comfortable."

I asked her what she meant.

She said, "I'm not comfortable around Black people."

Now, I'm not the most politically correct person in the world. In fact, I'm pretty f$#kin' far from it. But never, ever, ever have I espoused such a concept as that to her. She's 9 years old, for Pete's sake!

I kept questioning her and found out that there's a little girl in her class who's been hitting my daughter, and won't stop when Dear Daughter asks her to. I asked her if she's said anything to the teacher, and she said she had, but the teacher didn't do anything.

I kept telling her that this girl is just mean, and that it had nothing to do with the color of her skin. That there was no reason to be afraid of Black people in general, just because her tormentor happened to be black. Her mother and I have tried to raise her with this ideal; that just because a few people do something, it's not an indictment of the entire race.

I just fear we're losing.

Walrilla

All Right! I Confess!

I've been hiding something from all of you. I can no longer suppress this, or I may go insane. I just can't keep it under wraps any longer. Oh, the shame I felt at Austin when I couldn't let any one know my deep, dark, secret! I have lived in horror lest anyone find out. I finally decided to just tell all and let the chips fall where they may.

I know several of you may be disgusted enough to never come here again. Several others of you may start coming here more often, because you sense a... kinship of sorts... a brotherhood, if you will, or, indeed, a sisterhood(oh, God, the embarrassment!), a feeling that we share a deep bond. Be that as it may, I feel I must come clean.

All right, here goes...

Nine years ago, approximately, my dear wife forced me to do something. Something that has caused me to hang my head in regret ever since. I was young(OK, youngER, since I AM an old fart), and didn't have a good sense of right and wrong, and I was still infatuated with the idea of being married. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife and I enjoy being married, but love isn't infatuation. Infatuation leads you to do some things that, in the words of others, "just ain't right!" I have no excuse, except for the aforementioned infatuation.

Waht did I do, you may ask? I shudder in horror to think of it to this day. I... no... WE went to a disreputable area, found a dealer, sampled the goods, and brought these foul abominations into our house. A house shared by us and my stepson, and later, our daughter.


May God, and you, forgive me for what I've done.

Walrilla