Sticks and stones.

Just a quick note to advise all of you engaged in the great exercise of political discourse that you may, evidently, feel free to go back to scurrilous ad hominem attacks, and to questioning the good will, patriotism and sanity of all those with whom you disagree.

It appears the whole more measured, reasonable tone thing is over. It was a sweet two-and-a-half weeks, though, wasn't it?

In post-Tscon discussions about gun control issues (I tend to be opposed, as you will be unsurprised to learn) I have been invited, none too politely, to find another country to call home. The sufficiency of my – how do I put this? – endowment has been called into question. I have been blamed for all three Bush presidencies. (I voted for Dukakis (Lord help me), Gore (not like it counted) and Kerry (yeesh)).

I have been called a pinhead.

I have been called creepy.

I have been called “a stupid, deity-worshipping ape.”

I have been unfriended.

I’ve been instructed to “read the fucking Constitution once in [my] useless life.” It has been suggested that I go “iron my sheet” by someone who – I am just guessing – was not referring to work I did as journalist to expose hate group activity in North Florida.

But my favorite, by far, was when someone called me a reactionary. Very few are the lifetime Democrats who are ever privileged to be called a reactionary. In fact, I’m not sure anyone has called anyone else a reactionary since my sister called my dad one in 1971 – which probably got her spanked, so maybe she was on to something.