The thought occurs to wonder how much of Wretchard’s success is due to the fact that he’s in Australia and out of the reach of black helicopters.

The thought also occurs to wonder whether that’s what happened to Charles Johnson — that he and his little green footballs were swept up one fine weekend and re-programmed to see racism everywhere. Probably inserted via the famous alien rectal exam.

///

I must say I’m not missing Whiskey at all, at all. He brought nothing to the conversation except over-excited misogyny. And whether the whining about his absence might be a form of pre-emptive prevention along the lines of “guilt trip to puh-leeeeeze not expel me, too!”