I don't know if I'm getting hits thanks to the flap about the coerced outing of South Knox Bubba, but I thought that I would leave this space as an accomodation to Brian Conley, Ellen Mallernee, Molly Kincaid, or anyone else interested in taking any personal stuff with me where it belongs: to me. I am in SKB's blogroll and I do leave my blog in my signature over there, so logically, maybe someone will saunter over here and decide to leave a comment.
I'll offer a weak apology here: I'm sorry if you were offended by my (admittedly pointed) remarks. Seems like I hit a nerve, otherwise you wouldn't worry about being called "skeeze" or "skanks" or "Buffys" or "overindulged" or whatever it was that I said. Seems hardly to matter now.
All this aside, your depth of offense gives you no right to conduct a campaign to destroy someone's career, or to shut them up, or to embarrass them -- especially since your primary beef, Brian, was with the things that I SAID which Bubba let stand. Heck, that'd be like me signing off on an expense report where I knew that my employees were on assignment and driving drunk at the time. I can only assume what your staffers' thoughts on the matter are, since you seem bound and determined to shield them from criticism. Maybe I was overly frank with my thoughts on the quality of that article, but I took some offense of my own. Apparently you're the only one in the universe that has the right to act on that, however.
If you're considering widening your campaign of personal destruction, don't bother. The details of my life are shamefully boring by Knoxville standards, as it were. I'm a photographer by hobby and a sales engineer by trade. I brew my own beer. That's about the most edgy thing I'm into these days.
Thankfully, while I'm not always proud of the things I've said, I have no regrets to follow me through this debacle. While I may have come off like a reactionary, bloviating asshole, at least I've spared myself the indignity of looking like a world-class borderline personality case.