AND WE'RE BACK.

I just got through reading all of the blogs and I gotta say it again.
Mark is hilarious.

Completely unrelatedly, this morning I got into a fight.

With, of all people, my mom.

And the worst part about it is, I won.

It all started when I received an email from Moveon.org (via my good friend Jeff Schell) asking me to put my name on a list of people who think that President Bush should be censured by congress. This seemed like a great thing to do, and not only did I sign up, but I crafted a rare mass email and asked most of my family and friends to do the same.
Included on this mass email list was my mother, who I'm told, brought me into this world, and is apparently allowed to take me out of it at any time. I was not aware of this loophole in the law, but she seemed quite sure of herself, so I guess I'll believe her.

She didn't think Bush should be censured.
In fact, what she said was,

"Not all of us think he's a bad guy, Ryan."

That's it. That was the full text of her message. No, hi son, are you married yet, when are you coming to visit. That meant she was serious. So I sent her this.

"I never said he was a bad guy, Mom. I said he was a LIAR."

And I capitalized "liar" like that too, very cool. Or so I thought.

She sent back a message that talked about how Iraq was better off now. Then she asked me to imagine if she was living under a brutal dictator, wouldn't I want someone to help her?

And what can you say to that?

I'll tell you what you say. You say, "Of course I'd want someone to help you, Mom. I love you, and I'm sorry for upsetting you."

At least, that's what you say if you're not a dick.

I went on an e-rampage and pulled out all the sarcastic comments I could find. I wrote very lucidly about the lying, the agenda, and all the troops that are dying. I was mean and condescending to her. I talked to her like she was in The Habit.
Basically, I tore my mom a new one.
And I feel really bad about it.

I don't regret what I said, because it was the truth as I see it, but I shouldn't have gone as far as I did. On the bright side, at least I never once used the phrase
"Son of a Cock."

I sent the email with a vicious stab at the left side of my mouse, and sat back, thinking to myself, "Go ahead Mom, respond to THAT."

But she didn't.

I waited around for an hour and still nothing.

And then I read David Swidler's Way Cool Dude Blog to cheer me up.

Bad idea. He's what's known as "a good boy".

I'm an ass.

No, I'm worse, I'm a Mom-abuser.

A Mother Puncher, if you will.

May God have mercy on my soul, even Tupac loved his Mama. I just hope she's not on her way down here right now to grab me by the ear, use my middle name, and tell me to clean up this pigsty.

Mommy?


EDITOR'S NOTE: To follow up on this story, this morning I received a package from my mother and in it were two awesome gifts which she had sent me before our little chat yesterday. I really suck.