Missing the point.
The trouble with missing the point is that it often ends up stabbing you and drawing blood and tears.
It's tempting to suggest that that's the happy ending. But you see, I know the father, and I'll place bets that happy endings never are. Not because he's going to be vicious about it, but because he's a cheerful man, a happy man, and he'll be having nightmares for years, and if anyone doesn't deserve that, it's him.
They say that having daughters is your punishment for being a man.
Who is more moral?
The one who acts in the belief that the straight and narrow will take him to eternal bliss, or the one who remains moral in the certain knowledge that nothing he does matters to his metaphorical eternal soul?
Love your enemies.
The taste of their frustration is the scent of perfume; the knowledge of their defeat is the finest wine. Besides, the knowledge that there are petty fools who hate me kind of validates my existence.
In case you were wondering. Yes, this entry has been tongue-in-cheek. But you should know me well enough to realise that tongue-in-cheek or not, my entries don't usually lie straight out.
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