I just spent a long time writing my first blog post in a while where I ranted for about 1500 words, and the words were flying from my fingertips like flies from a hog farm. The prose was pure genius as I lambasted my target. Then, I got 3/5ths of the way through a brilliant closing paragraph when I stopped and re-read what I’d just written, and it hit me… Dammit, Robbie! You’re being an old jackass and you don’t need to let everybody else know that.

There’s a story about Abraham Lincoln, our 16th and unquestionably best president in my estimation, where he wrote a letter to Union General George Meade who commanded the Union forces in the East before Gen. U.S. Grant assumed control of ALL Union forces in 1863. Lincoln was extremely frustrated with Meade’s inability to crush General Lee by failing to pursue Lee as he retreated. Lincoln took the letter of rebuke and filed it away, never sending it to the skittish Gen. Meade who was from the beginning undesirous of the post but more importantly one of the few Generals in a position to take over the Army of the Potomac after the absolute turd-party-in-the-flesh, primadonna Gen. George McClelland was finally relieved of duty. Lincoln penned unsent correspondence like this often as a sort of therapy to vent his frustrations without damaging the delicate structure of diplomacy he relied upon to govern so effectively.

I’ll do the same with my cyber rebuke today. My boiler is back to simmer and nobody’s feelings are hurt. But… Thanks for ruining my rage sesh, Abe.