Sadness

Actually, I am the last Bastian of conservatism, not to be confused with radicalism. I have outlasted some people that call themselves conservatives, but hey, you can name yourself anyway you want to.

I'm trying to remember the screen names of the aforementioned trolls. Then there was the guy that flipped over a condom dress, (do any of you realize how much money went into that creation?) Hey, the model, one has to admit, was prepared for any eventuality. Oh yah, that was Anymouse, as he called himself.

Then there was Ziggles. A Guy that way too much time or whatever, on his hands. There wasn't anything or anyone that escaped his wrath, er ... until he was unmasked, at which time he crawled back under his rock.

Now we have someone that has gone postal. No, not in the usual fashion, where you go guns blazing into the office to off as many co-employees as you can. No, this postal freak is something that crawled out from under a rock. Unable, or at least ill-equipped to debate the issues of the day.

I am sad. Not because of the vandalism. To that, I just feel sorry for the forgotten soul that can't reach out and mix with the rest of us. No, I'm sad, because we don't have enough treatment programs for people like this.

I'm sad because if he/she were to have come forward, discussed our differences of opinion, it would have been a civilized conversation. People can agree to disagree. We civilized types do it all the time. Give it a try, it works. Oh and did I mention that we have a suspect?

While law enforcement officers are coming to Bayview in hordes, to snag the phantom mail box destroyer, one can only wish that he would go back on his meds.