What says "Thanks" to Steve and Jen...

...better than a Pink Baby Hippo Plastic Firearm?


I’ve never met Steve Gilliard or Ms. Jen.

Who knows, but what one or the other might be feel moved to swing past some convention/Liberal-Satyricon that I might be attending, or business takes me to NY, or if they ever leave their Enchanted Lands and pass through the Safe, Blue Oasis of Chicago, it is possible, but just as likely not.

So what?

Like so many of you, I’ve come to know them by their words, and value them. Through their Open 24/7 Blog Home Place, I know a little about their past(s), birthdays, family backgrounds, health and taste(s) in booze, food, sports, lovers and politics. Stuff I couldn’t tell you at knifepoint about cousins of mine, I could tell you about them. And they share those things freely with the world through the big front window of their capacious Addams’s Family Mansion.

I hung out there -- and still do and will -- for the same reason anybody hangs out anywhere. A lot of places serve a decent burger, but only a handful of them serve a good meal.

Steve and Jen serve a good meal, and only ask that if you have something to say, you speak up and put a little skin into it. Be too much of a smartass, and you’ll get smacked. Too much of a dumbass, same deal. You’ll learn, or smack back, or back off, of dig in your heels, or be vindicated, or whatever. But unless you go waaaay out of your way to be nothing but obnoxious, and at a 120-Decibel-Loud, Toxic, and set-your-head-on-fire Nuts level, and post repeated calls for the Violent Overthrow of Petting Zoos, you won’t get tossed.

You’ll get mocked. Oh Boy Howdy Yes! You’ll get your monkey skull hollowed out and serially shat in in front of God and Everybody by the cadre of smart, interesting, opinionated, musky-but-in-a-good-way, lunatics that Steve’s honest, muscular prose has drawn in.

You’ll be shown to be a fool...but not shown the door.

Steve appears to be as unsentimental and pragmatic a Warrior as the angels have on their side in these perilous times, so I’ll keep it simple.

First, money talks. He’s a Working Writer, and the most sincere form of applause is crisp and green and has serial numbers. Say nice things and spread the word -- I don't know a writer anywhere that doesn't like to have their craft honestly appreciated -- but if at all possible, hit his tip jar when he sets it out: he’s fucking well earned it.

Second, in the Digital World, he and Jen gave me a place to be and now, if I’m lucky, a place from whence to have come. For that they’ll always have my thanks, and always have a place on my couch. Either when in town...or when they have to go underground once the Homeland Security Nightwatch comes to cart them off to one of the many, soon-to-be-opened, Four Star, Ronald Reagan Memorial Goodthinkfulness Spas for political reformatting :-)

Well actually...Gilly can have the couch; there's plenty of unused real estate in my California King for Ms. Jen.

And did I mention I have a Most Righteous hot tub? :-)