There's a saying, "May the bridges I burn light the way." I thought it was profound and it certainly fit my life right now. But where was it from? I figured it was a passage from some epic bit of Attic literature or from something edgy and badass like "Game of Thrones" or part of a valedictory speech from someone ending their time as a coach or athlete for a team or school before moving on.
No. It was from Beverly Hills 90210.
So much for gravitas.
Years ago, I did a story for a content mill about a Pagan festival in Nashville. When it published, a handful of people sent me notes telling me I would never get back into the press box at Bridgestone doing stories like that. I sent most of them off with a shrug and a headpat. There were a few people who were told that it was a way to give my friends some media oxygen for their good work and the backlash was kind of the point. I wish I'd told them everything back then.
Would it have made a difference? Probably not. Some people have been curious and asked for names, dates, salacious details, and twenty-seven eight-by-ten glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one. None of that is really needed. The salacious details would be boring at best, especially in this twilight of the republic following the death of civility in public discourse. Those who were revealed, even if only by acts and words, cannot or will not talk about it. I'm fine with it and hope those who were upset at this revelation (and let's face it, it's never the people who need their jimmies rustled because they are pretty much the ones who are incapable of that kind of introspection) will eventually walk it off and go on with their days.
Having spoken my piece, I intend to do that as well. What's past is prologue (William Shakespeare's T"he Tempest.") One of my mentors from Big Giant Playwriting Incubation Thingie who has been with me as far back as my sportswriting days read all this and tried hard not to sound like a told me so, finger-wagging Yenta. He said I needed to take a lesson from Little Bossy Cat. When someone screws with her, she leaves deep marks. He instructed me that from here on out, I needed to do the same.
And so I shall.
I could say more, but why? I've made my point. Let the shenanigans begin.
Squeak!
Mouse
No. It was from Beverly Hills 90210.
So much for gravitas.
Years ago, I did a story for a content mill about a Pagan festival in Nashville. When it published, a handful of people sent me notes telling me I would never get back into the press box at Bridgestone doing stories like that. I sent most of them off with a shrug and a headpat. There were a few people who were told that it was a way to give my friends some media oxygen for their good work and the backlash was kind of the point. I wish I'd told them everything back then.
Would it have made a difference? Probably not. Some people have been curious and asked for names, dates, salacious details, and twenty-seven eight-by-ten glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one. None of that is really needed. The salacious details would be boring at best, especially in this twilight of the republic following the death of civility in public discourse. Those who were revealed, even if only by acts and words, cannot or will not talk about it. I'm fine with it and hope those who were upset at this revelation (and let's face it, it's never the people who need their jimmies rustled because they are pretty much the ones who are incapable of that kind of introspection) will eventually walk it off and go on with their days.
Having spoken my piece, I intend to do that as well. What's past is prologue (William Shakespeare's T"he Tempest.") One of my mentors from Big Giant Playwriting Incubation Thingie who has been with me as far back as my sportswriting days read all this and tried hard not to sound like a told me so, finger-wagging Yenta. He said I needed to take a lesson from Little Bossy Cat. When someone screws with her, she leaves deep marks. He instructed me that from here on out, I needed to do the same.
And so I shall.
I could say more, but why? I've made my point. Let the shenanigans begin.
Squeak!
Mouse
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