She Who Must Be Obeyed
She Who Must Be Obeyed, my wife, commands that I post less often to Livejournal, so that I can concentrate on finishing my current writing project. I tremble and obey!
Over the next two or three months, instead of daily updates on the New Space Princess literary movement, or arguments about Bimetallism, the Semi-Arian heresy, or even arguments about how arguments should be argued, I will probably be posting once a week, or less.
- To my fellow Christians who are planning to install a ruthless theocracy in America and replace the Constitution with the Holy Office of Spanish Inquisition, I urge you to wait until December, when I will have more time to post more. I have been in communication with the Cyber-Pope and SkyNet, and the secret Armada of Jesuit Flying Saucers on our hidden base on the dark side of the Moon, and the Holy Robotic Father says the invasion can wait.
- To my fellow Virginians who are planning to have the South Rise Again and wreak our long-awaited vengeance on the Yankees, I urge you also to wait until December. The head of Jefferson Davis has been kept alive in a jar by Southern Science in our floating war-base aboard the Merrimac currently icelocked in the Arctic. Our Louisiana necromancers have successfully reincarnated Stonewall Jackson (unfortunately in the body of black man, which is slightly embarrassing, considering Our Noble Cause, but let us be modern about this). Bo, Luke, and Daisy are also on our side, so in addition to Longstreet’s cavalry, we’ll have the Duke boys shooting arrows strapped with dynamite at the 101st Airborn. I am sure our centuries-old ironclads, that we carefully hid in the swamps after the surrender, will be able to steam up to the USS Nimitz and the USS Enterprise and rake them with grapeshot. The Clintons and and Bushes, from our chapterhouses in Texas, Florida, and Arkansas, have successfully Southernized the federal government of the Union; but these highly-placed political figures also want me to finish my novel and stop arguing with people over livejournal. So the South will have to hold off on Rising Again until I can free up some time.
Here, by the way, is a link to the scene where I approached my wife and received my instructions. I am the fellow in the beard; she is the one on the throne wearing the feathered cloak and crown. There are people who tell me I look …. sinister … like Count Dookoo or something. Those are people I have thrown to the snakes.
What about the man who does not fear your wrath and does tremble? Or the man who is not a man and yet does not tremble while fearing your wrath? I am not sure we have exhausted all the cases here.