valorous idylls chapter 28

Moral Equivalency

The house is quiet.
What to do.
My masturbation arm is out of commission.
And John Berney has taken the TV so there's no sex and violence to watch.
My eyes are drawn to the largest tome on my book shelf.
No.
Not this.
Surely after all these years, I've not been reduced to this.
I haven't fallen so low.
It is Robert Fisk's The Great War For Civilisation, a 1300 page word heap that someone left in the house ten years ago to annoy me.
Over the decade it's sat on my shelf, I never threw it out because doing so would have been like surrendering to Robert Fisk, or admitting I was afraid of him, or something.
So there's it's sat.
Waiting for this moment of weakness.
Now it has me.
Still.
How bad can it be.
How bad!
Just think.
What if it brain washes me?
What if I actually like it?
What if I end up, heaven forbid, agreeing with Robert Fisk in his advocacy of Islamic terrorism?
Slowly, doom ladenly, as if in a dream, like a man walking to the gallows, I reach for The Great War For Civilisation, blow the dust off it and open the cover.