Feb. 08, 2004 - 8:16 a.m.

Oh BOY did I have a lot of hate mail waiting for me when I got home yesterday! And from people I like!

Listen, I'm sorry those of you who took the time to type out some bile-spewing diatribe, only to have it bounce back as "undeliverable". I didn't shut down my e-mail, it's just that 45 minutes after I posted yesterday's entry my free Hotmail account had reached its limit. Try again today. It should go through, and you'll feel better for having vented your spleen.

So I'm left with a little dilemma after having perused all 827 vitriolic, badly spelled missives last night. (826 of which all at some point asked "Do you have kids?" Sadly, a brief foray as an obsessive philatelist some years ago left me sterile before I could spawn. I lick other things now. The one letter that DIDN'T ask if I had kids was from NewWifey(tm), whom I assume already knows. However, if you were curious, the other people involved in the conversation all have bouncing progeny at home. If you are blessed with World Class bad taste as a youth, becoming a parent later apparently doesn't change that).

But that parenthetical aside, here's my dilemma:

That conversation really took place. You (those of you not bottom-feeding in the media for a living) have probably heard the old adage about how newsroom humor is very much "black humor". Well...it is! And it's all that bad! Is this a defense mechanism because we are totally immersed in stories of tragedy and pathos everyday? Is it because we are just naturally insensitive to issues that make others cringe to begin with? Who knows. But it is a staple of every radio and TV station I've worked for/with.

So....

What do I do? Censure myself from writing things that really happen because people I like (although haven't met) don't have the same background as me and will shocked, shocked! Or do I just say "Fuck it. This is Dangerspouse, warts and all. And the warts ain't shaped like Hillary Duff."

Frankly, I've always been a "fuck it, this is me, deal with it" kinda guy. And a lot of you are too, I've noticed. Maybe the line you won't cross isn't as far out in left field as mine is, but the overwhelming majority of diaries I read seem to occasionally contain SOME impropriaties you wouldn't disclose in RL social situations. And that's what makes your diaries so fascinating. Maybe not as fascinating as mine, but I still get an eyefull of marital infidelities, indiscrete escapades, messy physical maladies, and consequence defying appliance abuse every time I start surfing around.

No, I'm not calling you a hypocrite.

On the other hand, raise your hands everyone who has written a congressman to express outrage over the recently published figures showing that since victory was declared in Iraq, an average of 30 Iraqis a day are killed as part of "Operation Enduring Freedom". Some of them, 11 year old girls. And the situation in Afghanistan is even more grim. Well?

I guess it's a matter of proximity, huh?

Now at this point, even the least astute readers are spitting at their monitors "FUCK. YOU! YOU'RE JUST RATIONALIZING YOUR GODDAM REPREHENSIBLE BEHAVIOR, SHIRKING RESPOSIBILITY BY TROTTING OUT TIRED EXCUSES AND ODIOUS COMPARISONS THAT DIDN'T HOLD WATER IN THE PAST AND SURE AS HELL DON'T NOW! THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR WHAT YOU ASSAULTED US WITH, SCUMBAG.

Yep. You're right on all counts.

But what should I do? Saddle myself with a Morality Code? Recognize that the people who have described me gleefully as a "bad boy" only find it funny if it's not really bad, and restrain myself accordingly? I mean, in an earlier entry I wrote about plucking a child off a kindergarten playground and hog-tying her to my car's roof-rack. For that, I got an in-box full of "ROFL"s. Maybe because it wasn't based on a recent news story. But do I really need to tell you that I wouldn't *actually* abduct and kill an 11 year old girl in real life? (I'd wait til she was 13, minimum).

No, ultimately I can't change. I wrote what I wrote because it happened. And frankly I found it funny, incomprehensible as that may be to some. I don't offer any apologies or excuses, or assurances that it won't happen again.

If you're not going to return because there's a chance you'll read something that would make Hannibal Lechter blanche...I'll miss ya. No, really. I'm as big a whore for ego-strokes as anyone you'll ever meet. But not at the cost of muzzling myself.

Ok, now get to your keyboard and tell me that THIS entry sucked, too. My in-box cache is cleared and waiting just for you. Or the Notes, if you wanna go public.

For those who are sticking around, I promise this will be the last time I write anything even remotely serious. On the other hand, I'm a reprehensible, amoral Antichrist and shouldn't be counted on to keep my word. You take yer chances in this life, know what I mean?