Earlier today I confessed on the Twitters that life was easier when I didn’t instantly know about every assholish thing that every asshole did. Such is the curse of the particular sea of social media in which I happen to swim.
“I was an activist then!” I tweeted, “I rallied to causes! It wasn’t like I was lacking in the being-fired-up-department! I think I was just less woeful.”
Then I called myself the Wench of the Woeful Countenance, and dared Twitter to understand the reference.
And then I got the following stuck in my head:
Hear me now
Oh thou bleak and unbearable world,
Thou art base and debauched as can be;
And a knight with his banners all bravely unfurled
Now hurls down his gauntlet to thee!
Man alive. I have got to go see Man of La Mancha again, sometime soon. Tilting at windmills – that’s my job description!