Zen & the Art of being a Hypocritical Asshole:
I would love nothing more, truly, than to allow this to be published with my name proudly attached at the top, or the bottom, or anywhere here at all. Yet, it strikes me that this course of action would be unwise, unrealistic, and, moreover, impractical. Now, more than ever in the Age of the Internet, we are forced to be practical in all that we do and never once, even for a moment, may we forget or neglect the fact that we are all beholden to our masters (those who control the keys to the trajectory of our lives).
Welcome, Weary Traveler;
In the coming days and weeks, it will be my distinct privilege to bring to you, dear Trumpeter, my Thoughts & Musings (and, perchance, the occasional Ramblings) on this funny little thing called Feminism.
For those of you out there who have done your Feminism 101 Homework, and can cite the philosophers and critique the movement without breaking into a sweat: I commend you. Heartily. This is not my intent and I skipped class that entire semester so I cannot join the chorus with you. Please go easy on me, and know that opus I am composing is not only just beginning: The resonance will be on a brand new frequency.
Variety is the spice of life, Trumpette. Bear with me here.
Join me for a song;