I am never quite sure, when I sit down to write this column each month, whether it’s going to be a jeremiad or an exercise in looking as much on the bright side as my retinas can stand. At the moment my outlook is generally positive, though I always keep dread within arm’s reach. To get rid of anxiety entirely is like inhabiting a home without smoke detectors. This is especially true if we occasionally amuse ourselves by setting the couch on fire.
As I stated in a response to a letter last month, I have always been compelled by my own nature to push the envelope. I have never been able to leave well enough—or bad enough—alone. Taking chances is an essential part of creativity. At any rate, it has been for me. I’ve loosed dozens of literary and musical creations into the world that range from silly to edgy to frankly offensive. I won’t disown my children and I won’t apologize for them. These works for the most part were not borne of any political or philosophical agenda, or even of any strong point of view. They were ideas that made me laugh that I carried beyond the threshold of good taste.
I try not to inflict my questionable humor on readers of The Syncopated Times, since this is not the place for it. I used to run a few milder items as filler before I had enough contributions (from more conscientious writers than I am) to plug those wide open spaces. Readers who fol
