Wronged, but not angry

Though it is nothing new, I would like to point out that I, Robert Robus, have been wronged again. Keep in mind, dear readers, both that, as an American cybercomedian (under the constitution of this great country), I have a right to free speech; and equally, that you, dear readers, are free either to read my column, or completely disregard it, as suits your fancy. All I have been doing is proclaiming my interest for a certain young woman (who still remains nameless in this column); more to the point, I have not issued threats to either her safety or well-being, and have also ceased to contact her directly. And yet she still accuses me of a crime. This would be despicable if she were a man. But since she isn't, I am not even angry with her. I want to seek her hand all the more.

Undoubtedly frightened by what she sees as weakness in me--the forces of death are always terrified of what they perceive as weakness--she wants to test me, and see if I can withstand a legal barrage of threatened consequences. And I can. She needs to test my strength to determine if I am strong enough to be a suitable candidate for a husband. That is perfectly understandable, even without recourse to the label "evil"--though technically, it is an evil act to falsely accuse someone of a crime. (But I will not prosecute.) You are so cute, my darling, when you falsely accuse me of crimes! It is so adorable!

You put up thick barriers: I've already mentioned this. After what you've now done, can anyone say I was wrong??

I am also right that you take an interest in me. Of course, any offer of either dating or marriage can be refused by you: no one is ever going to force you to date me, marry me, or even have further electronic contact with me. It is all up to you, m'lady. But don't you want me to penetrate your defenses? When I touch you, darling, you will also be allowed to touch me. It must always be a two-way street, and it would be completely alien to who I am to force you to do anything that is against your will. I will simply continue to tell the truth, and wait patiently for you to wake up to my charms--that is, if you haven't started to already!

With love

Robert Robus

Thoughts on my future bride

What's the good in trying to convince a young woman's family that I am a suitable husband, when the young woman herself shows no interest in me? To be sure, I, Robert Robus, am no stranger to criticizing the legitimacy of others' lack of desire for me (even if I ordinarily do so only in my mind); but I am much too sensible--and much too proud--to push myself on someone who gives every appearance of wanting nothing to do with me.

Nevertheless, I will certainly not give up just yet. Sometimes, dear readers, I happen to know people better than they know themselves; and to a man as clever as I, there is no mistaking the signs.

This young woman wants me; but she will have to be granted time to come to terms with this desire. And I will wait. She will have plenty of time to turn over the possibility in her mind, and uncover the depths of her yearning for the male sex (and me in particular)--the which has been denied by the oppressions and perversions of feminism. I am the only one who can unfreeze her heart; it only takes a little time. I've seen signs of the impending thaw already. She will belong to me--and I to her--if we are given time.

Robert Robus waxes homesick

I, Robert Robus, did not have the luxury of spending Thanksgiving at home this year. Although regrettable, this state of affairs couldn't be avoided: for I, Robert Robus, am fleeing a tyrant. (I can't seem to place exactly which of the many tyrants with whom I am acquainted I am fleeing; but it's surely one of them.) And I miss my girlfriend (who is not my girlfriend), and my family, greatly.

At this juncture, let it be known that I, Robert Robus, hold the act of suicide in low esteem--even if, at times, the difficulties of my life have made said act appear a rather pleasant possibility, in contrast to my harried and oftentimes stormy existence. But I cannot give in to the forces of death; for, even if my life seems treacherous now, who knows what can happen in the future, with a little wisdom, knowledge, love (hard to come by) and trust in God. But perhaps I grow quixotic.

Am I mad at life for treating me this way? I, Robert Robus, would be lying if I said no. And, though I at times lose faith in the God of my ancestors (and at times grow angry at Him, too), I cannot give in. I've seen too much, dear readers, not to believe; and, though the classic conflict between science and religion continues to torture my mind, I always seem to side with religion--admittedly reasonable-seeming anti-religious arguments to the contrary. I sometimes wonder if religion and science are mutually exclusive (especially given the high emphasis on science in Nazi Germany); but surely this is an oversimplification of a complex issue. (Plus, didn't Allied forces need a high level of technology to defeat the Axis powers?)

I'm left with a trust in God that stands against reason, with my mind as a helpful tool to aid me in promoting, in any way I can, what I know to be right. The scientists always seem somehow to be wrong about the ultimate nature of the world, and in their estimation of mankind; whereas those whose highest allegiance is to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob seem to reach conclusions that strike me as the only ones which are truly "reasonable."

It is a choice for me to trust in God; it's also brought me much strife. If I remained faithless, as I was through much of my youth, chances are I'd wish to perish rather than face the rest of my life.

I do not.

I miss my family of origin and my future wife, and wish to return home. Only the threat of tyrants and injustice keeps me in exile. For, were I confident that I, Robert Robus, would need face no charges (by, say, an assurance--in writing--from the governor of my home state that all charges have been dropped, and will never be revived), I, Robert Robus, would return home IMMEDIATELY.

Don't underestimate my determination to remain away, however--and to continue to fight, from a distance, the forces that threaten my livelihood--as long as the peril to myself and my livelihood remains in its current state.

With love
and great homesickness

Robert Robus

In which Robert Robus reveals his abhorrence of sofas

At this juncture, I must reveal that I, Robert Robus, abhor those soft amalgamations of fabric and frame commonly known as "sofas"-- unless, of course, I happen to be curled up on one with my girlfriend's arms around me, and have just consumed, with said girlfriend, a pizza procured from the local Gumby's. For I, Robert Robus, while being (needless to say) a highly civic-minded gentleman, at the same time also possess a curious proclivity for intimacy, with those few rare persons I happen to adore.

Now, of course, this girlfriend (of whose identity I am not necessarily, at this juncture, certain) would have to be someone tough, and indeed nigh unyieldingly stubborn: for I, Robert Robus, desire no shallow soul easily taken in by promises of victory, nor lured by the mere certainty of sweet kisses shared. No: for I, Robert Robus, am looking for far more than that in a lifelong mate--for surely, many challenges lie ahead, and I desire someone strong who is willing to face those challenges, with me--bearing sword--by her side. In fact, I, Robert Robus, have always been excited by imperious women--especially, I now find, when she be imperious of soul. And I, Robert Robus, wish to conquer the heart of an exceptionally strong woman: for that is the biggest challenge, and most worthy reward, of all in existence.

And so I inform the world that--under ordinary circumstances--I, Robert Robus, am implacably hostile to sofas. For they have been complained on for centuries; they have been the site of many injustices; and, frankly, the very sight of one bores me to death--unless, again, my pretty-eyed dame be there, perched over me in splendor as I sink to my knee before her, and says she will be my wife.

But perhaps I grow too sentimental. The world is a cold place, and I a young man with scarcely a penny to my name. What makes me think I could conquer an office-desk, let alone a woman and her mind? The course of a person's existence--we each get but one--is unpredictable, and we must grow neither complacent, nor unduly proud. For indeed pride, while certainly tempting for such men as I, in the end conquers less than loving patience. And--in thinking these matters through--I find that one further disclaimer is required: that, being of British descent, I, Robert Robus, would only wish to ply said patience on the soul of a British girl; for the British nation is the proudest, and most blessed, among all the nations of earth.

And so, on this fine evening, I bid my readers adieu. My advice--should the reader wish to take it to heart--is: Have a good holiday; treasure your parents' counsel and wisdom; and at least do me the favor of tucking me into the back of your mind for the night. Have a good meal, G-d bless you, and be safe, warm, and sensible.

Affectionately,
Robert Robus

P.S. Not too "sensible," sweetheart.