For those of you who don't know me, or for those of you who I have offended, I apologize if you took the meaning of my column to be anything but satire. As an effective satire only mirrors reality, I stand by what I have written for a few reasons.
First, as you'll notice, I picked on both sides, stereotyping both into wild exaggerations, which included picking on the "good" side of the room. Second, everything from the Little Rascals to the Boston Tea Party was a joke.
So for that, Kelly Korman, I wouldn't change the gorilla line for accuracy. If I wrote "a flannel shirt-wearing tomboy" instead of "girl" as I did in a later draft, Emily Congdon would be hurling eggs at my window.
As for my distinguished rivals, they distinguish themselves only by the amount of mud they sling back. Korman and Congdon churned offhand remarks into cannon fodder and ought to keep their hands from such villainous slander. Rock beats scissors, and journalism beats the English department.
For me, you see, it's the little things in life that are the great injustices. Like having to put up with bad music. If you devote your time to trying to solve the most miniscule of issues, the most mundane debates, such as this one, you will be left empty-handed. There's a quote that goes: "Analyzing a joke is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested, and the frog dies of it."
The defense rests. I'm going to the gym.
