[UPDATE]: Welcome, Instapundit readers.
I must confess something to all of you.
The expressions of warmth and support from my readers (and my colleagues at RedState, and my friends generally) were a great comfort to me this afternoon. Having your gallbladder removed is often an outpatient procedure, which essentially means that you can be sent home to feel bloated, nauseous, and generally miserable in the privacy of your own bed instead of at the hospital; which is actually not a bad thing. Particularly when you have access to the warm regards (and bad jokes*) of people who care enough to offer some comfort. Can’t put enough emphasis on that: stuff like that is meaningful on a personal level.
However, what tells me that I’m doing my job is the hate mail – and, bless his heart, somebody stepped up to the plate today:
That’s right: there’s somebody out there who is actually upset that I came through my surgery today alive, aware, and sane. I don’t know about the rest of you, but Jeffrey here of the Los Angeles branch of California State University has given me one Hell of a testimonial, thanks to his desire to see my wife made a widow and my children orphans. I’ll remember this the next time that I wonder – as all bloggers and writers do, honestly – whether I’m making a difference. Clearly, I am – because they hate me. They really, really hate me. This is such a pick-me-up I almost don’t need the next pain pill.
The funny part? I don’t hate them. Because hate makes you stupid.
PS: Am I also going to milk this for all that it’s worth?
Why, yes. Yes, I will. Solely to tick some of these people off.
PPS: I think that we’re done hearing about my gallbladder, though. No apologies for dwelling on it today, but there’s stuff to do. Like, say, taking away NY-09 from the Democrats. Which we might just, at that.
*Bad jokes are good. Good jokes make me laugh too hard, which will hurt for a couple of days.