I think the very tall red-headed woman in the first Chris picture I stole from Jessa is actually his handler, or whatever you call it, the same woman who followed him around anxiously at the Roney Palace Resort during Challenge, offering to hold his drink. Bwah! I have decided her name is Olga, and she is his personal trainer. She makes him eat wheat grass and wheat germ, all those things with wheat, those health food things, and she makes him work out twelve times a week and cleans his house. Viva Olga! Good job, sis.
Or, maybe his parole officer.
Would very much like to write an extended treatise on the latest little not-kerfuffle, but eh, why. Nothing ever changes, people will mock, and other people will get their feelings hurt. That's just the way it is, time out of mind, forever and ever and ever, amen. Dude. As long as that happens, I will be there. I love that shit. Caw! Caw!
I will say one thing, though. Strong emotion never makes a good argument. The fact that you feel REALLY REALLY STRONGLY about something, angry or hurt or whatever, does NOT obligate other people to respond the way you think they should. If you don't like what people say, prove them wrong. Or else ignore them for the raging hosebeasts they often are.
Would also like to point out that, very often when something is mocked, there is something mockable about it. Not always, but. Just sayin'.
I'm printing out some Xfiles fanfic and going to bed. Taping Project Runway, because when you get up at 4.45am, 11pm is the dead of night.
And for the curious, this is Western Swing:
House of Blue Lights, by Asleep at the Wheel.
I welcome all rebuttals, and not only because heh, rebuttal. Answer anonymously as needed.