[Note: Originally published 12\/20\/06, updated and bumped forward]<\/p>\n
Via Foot, I notice that Susan Lenfestey has a blog<\/a>, featuring her own particular brand of…<\/p>\n …well, what do we call it? Spittle-flecked ranting? Paranoid delusion? Serving as a mindless streetwalker for the party line?<\/p>\n Whatever it is, it deserves our encouragement, So I’m going to do what needs to be done: I’m going to sponsor a contest, the First And Last Annual Susapalooza<\/strong>. Here’s how it works:<\/p>\n The “winner” gets a beverage of his\/her choice from me, and maybe some other piece of NARN\/SITD swag. Probably. It’s art, dammit.<\/p>\n Update and Bump 12\/21: <\/strong>Lenfestey isn’t pleased with this contest<\/a>:<\/p>\n I’ve been described by some local lads (who blog under phony names [Really? Someone named “Lenfestey” digs at my <\/em>name?<\/font>] and remind me of the pimple-pussed boys I used to see playing war games in the Dungeons and Dragons emporium on Lake Street a long, long time ago) as a depressive, “sucking on the tailpipe of my Prius.” In my dreams! The Prius part. Sucking on the tailpipe, not so much. Read on.<\/a><\/p>\n They call me other things as well, which is curious to me, seeing as I’m such a little piece of fluff in the big lint screen of opinions. What a funny waste of their time.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n No, Susan, you’re right; your depressive, angry yet self-adoring, precious, arrested-adolescent little opinions are<\/em> a fart in the cosmic wind. True. But by dint of your social connections<\/a>, they get printed, seemingly no questions asked, in the Strib. Hundreds of worthy writers go unpublished, while your whiny<\/a>, kvetching <\/a>sore-loser snivelling<\/a> jumps to the head of the line.<\/p>\nbecause freedom of speech and argumentation is a treasure to be cultivated<\/strike> because it’s fun to watch puffed-up, self-important “children of the sixties” make asses of themselves, their beliefs and their generation.<\/p>\n\n
\nSo puff up your self-righteous, vein-popping indignation. Whip your petulant depression to a fine fever. Sniff down your nose at your fellow citizen.<\/p>\n