It's my older kid's 21st birthday today. And my father-in-law's 77th birthday. Someone who is not mathematically inclined (which is fine) will not point out (which is fine) this morning that today is the beginning of the last 47 days of our lives when neither of us is 60 fucking years old. That we got here is remarkable, as serendipitous as (if more complex than) the random and joyful afternoon farm market meeting he referenced last week; the number of opportunities we've dodged, together and separately, to not get here, simply staggering. And those spread over 50 fucking years, almost 85 percent of our fucking lives. Pretty fucking lucky to be able to say that about anyone, ever. Go in peace.
You need to know that this is a self-indulgent vanity blog. I don't care how you got here (and you do get here by some very strange pathways); do not come here looking for deep unassailable meaning. If you knew me, you'd know better.
In case I need to spell this out for you, much of the content in this blog is either inside baseball (private public jokes between me and friends) or satirical. Much of my expression, even when talking about real-world stuff, is satirical. I have strong opinions. Here are a few:
Government exists to promote well-being.
Yes, that's a broad sweep.
Compromise is functionally necessary.
Hate is unacceptable in real life (sports excepted; if you don't like that distinction, you're not entirely wrong, and fair play to you). I elaborate on this because it's an easy word to use, and you may see me use it. I audit on this word, and I'm confident about the contexts in which I've used it here.
There is no need to compromise with hate.
Satire draws on the need to highlight that which is wrong.
The satirist should re-examine satire that sounds like hate.
That includes me.
You need to know that I sometimes use language that others find profane. While I believe that words are words and there's nothing to fear, I respect both opposing viewpoints and your right to not read this blog.
Sometimes I do write about serious things. When I do, I'm right, and you either agree with me or you're wrong. Sucks to be you, huh? Of course, if you knew me, you'd already understand this, and it would suck considerably less to be you.
You may find me incomprehensible. As a service to you, I have created the Minionsglossary (updated in November 2017), to help you decipher. It's all about you, bitchez.
This blog's email address is minionsblog (at) gmail (dot) com. I check that email very infrequently. DM on Twitter (@landruajm) will get me faster. Lots faster. The old address was hacked and no longer belongs to Landru, because Google isn't very smart (and neither is Landru).
All material copyright (c) 2005-2017 by You Are My Minions and its owner, whose name can be deduced if one thoughtfully contemplates every single word ever posted here. Which would really be a bloody waste of time.