Tell Me Where It Hurts

Today, Ol' Hoss will explain to you your latest politically corrected position. You are now officially in favor of polygamy.

Well, anyway, I am. I got to thinking about things that I am for and against, and it dawns on me that I should not be against anything that doesn't hurt me. I am plenty against hurt. You might be, too, for all I know. What I mean is, how damaging is it to me, or my bank balance, or my full dinner pail, if three women want to knowingly marry one stud? I am not talking about 12-year-olds assigned to Uncle Cotton-Eye Joe from Day 1. I am talking willingly and knowingly.

So you can add that to things I don't object to, like abortion, death with dignity (assisted suicide), gays, lesbians, blacks, Jews, Indians, the Washington Redskins, redskin peanuts, and banjo players. None of that stuff hurts me. Does it hurt YOU? If so, how, exactly? I draw the line at mimes, book bans, and Dubya, though. I have my limits.

I am not even especially ill-disposed to murderers. Some of their targets "have it coming." Murderers are the best parole risk. And if they don't put the murder on me, well, what the hell?

(I just asked my wife about adding murderers to the list of things that are "okay". I take one raised eyebrow as a "no." So scratch that. Tom Cruise? Another scratch.)

Mimes offend my sense of humor, so that hurts. Book bans offend my sense of civility, so that hurts. Dumbya offends my sense of sense:

"Our journey from national independence to equal injustice includes the enslavement of millions." --Riga, Latvia, May 7, 2005.

"But you can serve your country, as well, by feeding the hungry, or finding shelter for the homeless, or helping a low-income person fill out a tax reform." --New Jersey, March 4, 2005.

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My favorite word today is incontinent. Adj., domiciled. Def: What you say when you wish to be more vague than saying you are "in residence."