Author’s Note

If you clicked here looking for an explanation of “Bad Pants” as a nom de plume, please read the Prologue.

A couple of years ago, I jumped on the “blogging” bandwagon.  I was trying to work through some issues “on the cheap” and blogging seemed like the thing to do.  I was reading a lot of blogs at the time, and I’d found myself leaving longer and longer comments on some of the blogs I frequented the most.  I realized, “hey, I can do this!” and set out to learn as much as I could about the how’s of blogging.

Sadly, I started with Blogger.  Which anyone who ever used it would have to admit, sucked.

Still, I signed up with my nifty alias and off I went.  Mister Oregon was born.  Mister Oregon ultimately died out for a couple of reasons not worth rehashing in detail at this time; let me just say that words are powerful, and they hurt people even when you didn’t really intend to do any harm.  It was a “lessons learned” sort of first stab at blogging.  Eventually I’ll probably dust off some of the best nuggets from that phase, but most of those things are far best left for dead.

Round two went better, as Dead Charming was something I could really get behind.  It was a better premise, a better execution, and let’s be honest with each other, MUCH better writing. Sadly, it also ran afoul of my personal life.  There’s a place where you’re parsing the things that have happened, working through them and studying them, learning what you can after the fact…and then there’s getting caught up in those events again.  Making mistakes again.  Hurting people, again.

I’m REALLY tired of hurting people.

This isn’t a very anonymous blog. It’s as likely that someone who stumbles upon this little corner of the inter-webs will know me from “the real world” as not, and for the sake of my family I choose to simply not discuss much of my current personal life. My personal life is on-going, it’s every day, I live it.  I don’t want to hash it apart with people who aren’t living it hour-by-hour and day-by-day. That wouldn’t be fair to the people on this side of the internet’s one-way fun-house mirror.

I’ve made that mistake already, I have no intention of making it again.

The REST of my life, well…that’s fair game and it’s open season.

Additionally, I’d like to warn you, dear reader, that I swear.  Sometimes, a lot.  Yes, Mrs. Becker once told me that resorting to obscenities was the sign of a lazy mind, and to an extent I agree…

…but sometimes even though “he is a villain of irascible character, a loathsome toad that crawled out of a muck of bile and filth” is a good phrase; sometimes “he’s a fucking bastard shithead” just works better.  Might be laziness, might not.

Still, this narrative is written by an adult, for a target audience of adults, and it’s not designed to be “kid friendly.”   Though, I’d read worse when I was twelve (thank you J.D. Salinger, Thomas Pynchon, Dan Jenkins, and George Plimpton), so take that for whatever it’s worth.

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