I wrote late into the night on a blog that methodically showed how ludicrous editor Silas Lyons’ quotes were in the Thursday story after more than 100 people picketed the paper to protest my firing and the paper’s decline of talent and content.
I ridiculed the transparency and complete b.s. of Lyons’ words. It was quite clever, if I do say so myself.
I felt pretty vindicated.
Then came some lies and weirdness from left field from a pair of colleagues in a blog. Wow. I didn’t see that coming. It really stung.
So I rolled up my sleeves and set out to fix their clocks, too.
I got tired and saved my entry to finish in the morning.
And here’s why it’s good to sleep on something before you mail it (or, in the case of blogs, post it).
By morning, I saw things differently. I felt different, too.
I saw those lies, partial truths and betrayals as a turd tower deposited by these people on the sidewalk of my life, put there for reasons I still do not know.
I looked at that pile and thought about it for a long time. I asked myself if I could ever imagine diving headfirst into something that awful – not just diving in, but rolling around in it.
No, of course not.
Besides, where would it get me?
Smelling and looking like crap. (Pardon my French.)
So I’m not posting that blog. I never will.
I will treat that horrible pile exactly as I would if I encountered it on the river trial.
I’ll walk around it.
And move on.
