You and I, kind reader, believe in and support that wonderful document and its amendments (well, most of the latter) that for over 200 years has set us apart from almost — not all — other nations on earth.
Magna Carta and the U.S. Constitution — perhaps the two most magnificent paradigms for guiding a nation that were designed by man.
That does not mean that interpretation of the Constitution and the subsequent Bill of Rights will always be seen exactly the same by all citizens of all eras. In a democracy — even a Republic — some disagreement among people of good will is not a bad thing.
So. When I say censorship is alive and well, I’m referring to such a practice in my own home.
That’s right. There’s love at home, but there’s also censorship at 291 Mimosa Shores Road.
Oh, yes. My wonderful First Wife exercises her self-appointed right to censor my weekly scribblings before they are delivered to our local print media organ, the Washington Daily News.
Believe me, she strives diligently not to let anything slip by her that might be even mildly offensive to any person or any group.
The use of any word or phrase that she deems inappropriate is excised per her gentle persuasion. Even the most innocuous seeming application of some word that may possibly insult, annoy, or be misconstrued, is dispatched to wherever deleted words are consigned in cyber space. I mean, as in, “You’re NOT going to use that word, are you?” Or, “Surely, you don’t mean that?”
She’s usually right, of course. “Better safe than sorry” could be her mantra.
Such astringent censorship may, on occasion, take a little “spice” out of my wordsmithing, but it’s how it is for this old homeboy.
Now. Let me finish this less (much less) than riveting writing and submit it to my beautiful censor.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed.