Not even half way.

Those over-cautious well-meaning survivors of an earlier age of civility, who wore gloves cautiously to manage the business of the day, have been passed by and passed over, left behind, cast aside.

The gloves are off.

No longer can we timidify, dipping our toast in milk, that, “It kinda, sorta, almost hints at nearly recognizing there just might almost be the beginning of a possibility concerning the issue of a dare we say problem.”

No.

If you fight fire with fire, where’s the fire?

If we won’t bend, where’s the spine?

How can we speak if they cut out our tongue?

We say we deserve better.

Prove it!