My wife and I just said goodbye to about twenty friends who spent part of the evening with us.
How in the world did the mean-spirited, small-minded, vicious Daniel Peterson get twenty people to come to his house, you ask? (The adjectives come from a commenter on this blog, and he stands proudly by them.)
That’s easy. We offered them food.
And we promised good discussion of a very good book: Socrates in the City, edited by Eric Metaxas. Or, as it’s called in its paperback edition, Life, God, and Other Small Topics.
Besides, they like my wife, which is understandable.
And it’s our regular monthly book group — my wife belongs to a second one, also, as well as to a weekly discussion group — and going to the homes of members of the group has long since become habitual monthly behavior. For all I know, they were shocked when they entered our home and found me here.
I notice, on another message board, that one of my more mendacious critics has launched a thread tonight about the vicious things that I’ve posted, and apparently continue to post, about a certain individual. I have literally no idea what this critic is talking about. (And, of course, while he demands that I stop doing this evil thing, he provides no actual evidence of my having done it, let alone any reason to think that I still am, such that I need to “stop it.”) Perhaps he’s just making it up; he’s made impressive stories up about me before. In any case, though, these vicious things that I’ve supposedly posted have done real damage to my alleged victim, and are likely to harm my alleged victim’s posterity for several generations into the future.
If the people who came to our house had realized the full extent of my wickedness, I doubt that they would have been willing to enter the town I live in, let alone to walk into the very house from which I practice my evils.