I felt a certain obligation to make sure I hadn’t misinformed you; ya got me!

Thus far there are no complaints about how I pee on them.

All the evidence is that they cannot.

I am giving this issue a lot of thought, because this is the first indication I’ve seen it’s possible to convert Republicans to sanity, even for a minute, so how do we build on it? Probably needs to be addressed from a few different angles. Here are a couple I can think of:

I built a thing you might enjoy.

This is why I’ve always liked Hal Jordan the best, of all the superheroes. Not even Hal-Jordan-as-Green-Lantern, but Hal Jordan: the guy you cannot ever intimidate, the guy who refuses to give in to fear because he knows right from wrong. I won’t claim to be that man, but even at age 51 it’s what I aspire to.

The best power is luck, hands down.

It’s not about “caught off guard” so much as, “You know what? Pants are down already, might as well make this visit really count.”

Realist. Plus I never know if it’s going to be full-service visit, so I might as well sit and cover all possibilities.

I’m enjoying Gambi and how, no matter how deceitful he’s being, it later turns out that he’s trying to do something understandable, for example keeping the Pierce family safe from any shenanigans Lady Eve might want to pull. I infer that it’s basically Gambi that was able to quell the violence years ago when Black…

Gambi is the human version of Elim Garak.

I love this show so much. I want to take “Arrow”, grab it by the scruff of its neck, point its face towards this show, and say “See what they’re doing? Be more like them!”

When you have a choice to make, ask yourself which option is likely to make things better and which is likely to make things worse. Do the better one, unless for some reason you can’t.

Well, I’m not the one who did it, but yes it’s a joke. Presumably someone enjoys the sense of scooten-frooty when they trick other people into mispronouncing words.

Wait, did I accidentally do a bit from “The Big Bang Theory”? Fuck. FUCK.

ELTON JOHN ISN’T GAY!! The song is clearly about a woman!

May I recommend Elton John as protective camouflage? There’s no way to square “Tiny Dancer” with being a threat, no matter how much melanin you’re smuggling.

I see your parents played mind games on you. One that my dad played on me and my sisters: he’d walk around the house saying “Where’s King Beauregard? I can’t find him, where is he?” and I’d shout, push him, probably hit him trying to get his attention. Then he’d finally “notice” me, and pull the same thing on my…

“Daddy, why does your head look like a choo choo train?”