“Horrible Criminal” Activity

Recently, I was accused of a number of unmentionable crimes for which I must be punished without trial. I am in fact guilty before the trial and until proven innocent at the trial, after which I will still have these accusations lingering over my head probably for the rest of my life.

Whether I’m guilty or not is therefore irrelevant; I’m guilty as charged without trial or representation. I’m denied any chance for “legal” defense. I have to say, in my own defense, however, that while it is true that I’m guilty on all counts, real or imagined, whether truly guilty or not, especially since merely being accused is enough to permanently indict me for any crime you can think of. If fact, I’m guilty of NOT committing any of those crimes. Perhaps this is merely negligence on my part. I’ve neglected to commit the crime you’ve accused me of! I believe that is an additional charge, your Honour!

Of course, I’m not without sin at all. I have done certain things that I’m not proud of. I’ve embarrassed myself in public numerous times and been humiliated even more times than that. If you must know, I’ve even been found guilty in a court of law of a parking violation. That’s about as serious a crime as I really am likely to commit, in reality.

If it weren’t for certain evil, active movements in the mid 1990s and the activities their members committed, I’d likely be married with children and a lot more responsible now. Come to think of it, maybe those movements weren’t so evil after all, even if it left me feeling very shy and quite lonely. At least I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for. If not for them I’d likely be dead.

Just because I’ve never heard of something doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. I am an extremely fallible human being who tries to get his viewpoints and facts straight, but often stumbles, trips, or outright misses. Sometimes I do incredibly stupid things, like post something that gets withdrawn less than an hour later, only to find out that too many people saw it, and likely decided that I am a monster.*

Maybe I’m just a little too sensitive. Maybe I’m just a bit too vulnerable and somewhat insecure. I didn’t give direct unwarranted attacks on anyone, intentionally. If I did, I withdrew any associated attacks by writing, speech, or physical action. People often do things to hurt me, and I tend to overreact. Sometimes I need to get it out of my system, and as a writer, that usually means that I need to write it down and post it somewhere, even if I know it can’t go live.

Sometimes I can quite resemble Obnoxio the Clown from Crazy magazine, dealing abuse where I should be dealing out humour. What can I say? I’m about as imperfect as they come. Obnoxio stopped caring what his audience thought of him and took to smoking cigars, accosting people with a defeated, acerbic and cynical tone, and usually wore a badly tattered clown suit. Obnoxio the Clown appeared only once after Crazy magazine folded, about a month or so after the final release. He was never drawn again.

When I was a kid they called me “defective.”

*   I should apologize for the insult to any monsters out there.

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