I have a RIGHT!!!!! (This is moderately offensive; you’ve been warned.)

Let's move to Nevada!

Let’s move to Nevada!

I have the right to mutilate myself with razor blades.

I have the right to marry someone who will beat me senseless.

I have the right to drink myself into a drunken stupor every day.

I have the right to quit working and live on the streets.

I have the right to masturbate with pornography every day.

I have the right to have plastic surgery to make me look like a tiger.

I have the right to gain a hundred pounds and die of diabetes.

cutting
I have the right to go for a year without bathing.

I have the right to move to Nevada and have sex only with prostitutes.

I have the right to believe in Santa Claus.

And the Easter Bunny.

I have the right to believe everyone who is not of my race is evil.

I have the right to say any damned-fool thing I want to here.

I have the right to have a meeting with Whitey Bulger in attendance.

I have the right to work for the legalization of methamphetamine.

I have the right to be addicted to methamphetamine.

I have the right in Texas to have sex with a horse.

I HAVE A RIGHT!!!!!

I HAVE A RIGHT!!!!!

I have the right to publish instructions for making Molotov cocktails.

I have the right to hate you.

I have the right to form a PAC to keep Buddhists from being elected to public office.

I have the right to burn everything in my house that is not insured.

But most important,

I have the right to carry a gun and kill you if I think you are “suspicious.”

Let’s amend the Constitution

I propose a 28th Amendment to the Constitution reading:


“Neither Congress nor any State Legislature shall pass any law limiting any person’s right to be free from violence at the hands of those who bear arms.”

A book I know well says, “We will not regret the past, nor wish to close the door on it.” I have tried for years to come to terms with that concept. To make it part of my self-perception. Internalizing the idea is pretty difficult for me because much in my past I wish had been otherwise than it was.

I know, I know. Everyone can say that—and would if she were being unabashedly honest. But whether wishing it were not so is the same as regretting, I’ll let keener minds than mine decide. My distinction is that I can regret only those choices I made consciously and willingly, while I can wish experiences over which I had little or no control had not happened.