I Must Strongly Disagree With Myself

Friends and readers, it's always difficult to confront someone with an opposing opinion, and this is no exception. Something I've read has outraged me and I must stand and take issue with it, even if the author is myself.

Loyal followers of this column or those who simply read the headlines will no doubt know the past column written by yours truly spoke very harshly of myself and, in fact, wished repeatedly for me to "be dead." I can't tell you how offended I was when I finally read it again last night.

I'm sure I was going through a difficult time when I sired such a column, but is that any excuse? I dare say it is not. My high journalistic standards apparently evaded me for some period while I churned out tripe the likes of which I have never seen. I expected that from other journalists, but not from Rok Finger.

And the continuous use of filthy language? Insulting. Sure, I engage in a tasty dash of profanity once in a while, but I try to restrict how much of that sees print. I can't believe Rok Finger would sink to the levels of say, commune columnists, to write such unimaginative drivel. Are "fuck" and "shit" any better than saying "procreate" and "pinch one out"? No. If Rok Finger thinks it is, maybe Rok Finger shouldn't be given free reign to write whatever he pleases.

As for all these repeated references to death and the desire to die… well, Mr. Finger, I hope I'm prepared to put my money where my mouth is. If I want to die so badly, why don't I just go out and do it? Actually, in my defense, I made a few half-hearted efforts to do so, but was thwarted by my unwillingness to carry it out. Just as I thought. I've proved my own point.

Death and suicide are not to be joked about lightly, at least not my someone who lacks a sense of humor so obviously as myself. For making my loyal readers endure all this self-pitying, depressing talk, I should apologize.

Altogether, if there's one thing about my previous column that really makes me angry, it's the negative references to my wife Arvelyn. It's true, Arvelyn and I have separated, but we're not giving up on reconciliation or working things out. If all else fails, we're still friends, and I will not stand by and see myself defame her in such a fashion in print. Say what I want about me, but I won't allow me to make a mockery of her in public. Next time, Rok, let's just keep things on a civil level, eh? If you can manage that.

The same goes with the disparaging comments made about my commune co-workers. They are all skilled and competent reporters, given their limitations, and I refuse to dignify my rants with a response.

Maybe if I spent a little less time listening to my "dope show" songs and reading The Catcher in the Rye I could engage in more valid commentary on the nature of life and such fun things and why Band-Aids no longer use those little red threads to open.

Get your act together, Rok Finger. Columns like that are a major disappointment. I can't say with certainty I'll ever read my work again.

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