A Peacefull Demonstration

There will be no death or destruction in today’s essay. No animals will be harmed in the production of the 500 or so words you are about to read. It has been a long time since over 250,000 cheery teenagers were killed for the sake of a few laughs on this page, but I haven’t completely renounced violence as a comedic tool. While I have sworn off of abject genocide, I realize that a dead bird here, an electrocuted beautician there starts to add up to a sizeable body count if I write every day. I have decided to remain prolific in my writing without being profligate when it comes to beings, both human and otherwise.

I have decided that when I sit down at the computer to write an essay I will always have in mind, “How would Gandhi write this?” Gandhi was the father of non-violent protest, a man who refused to harm even a fly. I will emulate the spirit of this man of peace in my essays. There is a funny paradox about Gandhi. He was a completely non-violent man—eveyone knows this—but he hated cats. True story: One day I was driving behind Gandhi down 2nd Avenue on the way to work when I watched him actually drive up on the sidewalk to run over a stray cat. The man was an absolute saint—hated cats.

I happen to like felines so you will never see me purposely drive up on the curb to do harm to a cat. Perhaps I should ditch this Gandhi kick I’ve been on lately—dirty cat-hater. I need to find another peaceful model for my writing. There must be a way to write so as to demonstrate effectively without throwing a rhetorical brick through the plate glass window of a Starbucks, because property damage—even to a Starbucks—is also a form of violence.

You are probably asking why I don’t emulate the Dali Lama in my style of writing. Only someone who hasn’t heard the Lama’s nightclub act would ask that. Although a man of peace, he has without a doubt the foulest mouth on the comedy circuit today. Don’t get me wrong, I think the Lama is funny as fuck; I just don’t work that way myself.

A whole lot of carnage has taken place here at Leftbanker in the name of humor. I can’t undo any of it; I can only apologize and try to evolve into a more caring, more compassionate essayist. I will seek to uplift where I once sought to offend. I will focus only on the beauty of the world and avert my eyes from ugliness. Why write about a dead bird when eagles proudly soar overhead? Instead of slouching through alleyways I will skip merrily down sunny lanes. There is certainly no crime in skipping. I would venture to say that no one has ever skipped to, or away from the scene of a crime.

From now on I’m going to continue with biting social satire but I’m going to do it in such a cheerful manner so as to make Kathie Lee Gifford look like the Grim Reaper. You want feel-good? I can do feel-good. You want puff pieces? I’ll puff your brains out.