Friend Gets Goodbye Email from Fiance

[Brad and Vika 129]

Just snapping my fingers appreciatively.

[LvivLovers 39]

This. Is awesome. Seriously, there could be tears before long. I never dreamt it could happen. But it happened. Oh yes it did, and you are all witnesses to this historic event.

Never before have I been compared to the divine comic genius that is Conrad Bain. Had korat truly wanted to pierce my still-beating heart with iron arrow, he could have gone with any of the traditional and more mundane father figures such as Robert Reed, ####### Van Patten, Steve Guttenberg or dear god even Tom Selleck. But he didn't. He chose Conrad Bain because he knows (because, you know, of the stalking) what a large impact Mr. Bain has had on my life, not only for the nougatty nuggets of nurturing that his alter-ego Mr. Drummond gave so freely to so many generations of Americans (despite his being Canadian, for which he received an official pardon from Ronald Reagan for) but also because by comparing me to the patriarch of a beloved multi-racial family consisting of different folks intent on respecting--nay, celebrating--their different strokes, Korat carries betwixt gaily held thumb and forefinger a simple token of peace and unity. Korat comes before us all, bearing his thousand-words picture, and those loquacious words sum up to this: "I'm really really really really really sorry I was such a douche, can you ever forgive me and my small #######?" It takes a big--and small--man to prostrate himself unto the mob, what with all their pitch forks and torches and...well mostly with the piteous laughter, which has got to be harsh on the 'ol self-esteem.

The question before us now is this: "What'choo talkin' 'bout korat?" I think I speak for the entire RU forum when I say, "we know korat. We know "what'choo talkin' 'bout." We know what now beats in that previously 2-sizes too small chest cavity, and it is love and respect for your fellow man. It is contrition for terrorizing a woman unable to defend herself from the dark machinations of your lotion scented basement headquarters thousands of miles away, and it is admission that you are an abject failure in the face of your personal yet hilarious demons. I for one accept your apology, dear korat. Golf clap.

Now who wants pie?