The Responsibility of Leadership
Someone’s Got to Do It
Lonely is the life of one whose role is to criticize in order to bring about moderation. The mere observation of misconduct is to condone, whereas the critic unleashes the power of the pen to bring about needed correction. Little understood, we, of the fourth estate, must plod forward through the mire of social degradation, grasping each opportunity to allegorically bring the world back to its senses. A thankless task, true, but nonetheless a necessary one.
Critics of Critics
Now come those who seek to expose every aspect of human frailty, laying open to the public view simple failings of those charged with reporting immoderate behavior. Where is it written that all must be devoid of weakened judgment in order to study the phenomenon? For one to be quick to address impropriety is no ground to exempt him from impromptu transgressions.
There are rumblings that we present an unbalanced report of misdeeds. To satisfy those who endorse the pillorying those of such insight, we submit our account of an evening marred by misjudgment and unwelcome intervention.
A Quiet Evening
Having excelled in the field of golf, taking victory in hand, we did indeed enter into celebratory reflection upon the success of the day. Glasses were raised and we held ours no higher than those having less to rejoice. As the night wore on, given the absence of our spouse who was traveling for the weekend, it seemed appropriate to savor an aperitif or two. We had few drinks.
Retiring to break bread at a popular bistro, we took wine with friends, and lightheartedly exchanged tales. Learning that the house orchestra would not be playing that evening, we sought another venue more in keeping with the spirit of the moment.
A Loud Evening
It was Fat Jack’s Oyster and Sports Bar that found our party’s favor, and we settled in for an interlude of song and dance. After dinner cordials were enjoyed, and the group became somewhat less circumspect. Signs of inebriation began to develop. Innocently, we laughed; we danced; we frolicked.
A Loud Evening Turned Quiet
Our quality of self-control diminishing, we allowed ourselves to continue at a pace that outstripped our ability to persevere. Suddenly slumber was imminently unavoidable. We dozed off quietly as the stronger revelers ran their course. Of affront to no one, our repose was unmenacing, but still prominent to those passing by.
It is widely held by bigots that those of certain ethnic decent are ill mannered to the extent of indecency. In an act that may bring credence to this belief, we fell victim to an act of outrageous social misconduct.
As we slept, a negress visiting the establishment was so attracted to us, whether by our innocence or subtle virility, that she was compelled to draw herself to us in our moment of disadvantage. Seeking to stir the sleeping prince, the lady bent down and tickled our ear with the tip of her tongue. Apparently failing to achieve the reaction she desired, the wench thrust her tongue, an organ of voluminous proportion, further into the auditory canal where manipulation was increased to such a level of activity as to make sleep impossible for the receiving partner.
Shocked and disoriented by such personal violation, we raised our head to meet literally eye to eye, a black woman exhibiting her tongue through a collection of white teeth, red lips (of equal proportion to the central organ), and eyes flashing as if fuelled by some illicit concoction. The motions of the tongue were serpent-like, interrupted only for brief moments of broken speech and shrieking laughter. An array of multi-colored braids adorned the gargoyle, and scanty clothing suggested her to be of mammalian genus.
Having no wish to remain a pawn in the hand of such a pariah, we fled quickly, hastened homeward by our companions. Little remains to be told, lest matters of subsequent indigestion be brought up.
Having fully confessed, we feel absolved of any unfairness as might regard the social observations we feel predestined to facilitate. Our soul is cleansed, and we stand ready for the next posterior exposure of our beloved but vulnerable friends.