First of all, I rarely write about my family, and when I do names, dates, and identifying  characteristics are changed to protect the wicked.  Not many people know, for example, the true origins of my family, our ongoing role in international affairs, or in founding five of the seven world religions (not including Darwinism).  I don't like to prejudice visitors to my blog one way or another.

I also know that like "slogging" (blogging about your sex life),  "flogging" (blogging about family) can be a dangerous, if not deadly, business.  Sex and family are two pillars of society.  Shopping and fast food being the other two, which for some reason you can blog about with impunity. 

Be assured that when I find it necessary to blog about family (and sometimes you have to, just to prove you're not spam) I strive to include as little factual data in these posts as possible.  Same goes for sex. 

Of the few posts including allusions to family, one post about family reunions caused a recent stir at mine.  The post contained some generalizations about families in the context of the Democratic National Convention that were certainly NOT specific to MY immediate or extended family:

For me, the national parties' quadrennial conventions are kind of like extended family reunions.  Overflowing with crazy aunts and crusty uncles, blowhards banging on at the table for hours about God knows what all, and lots of backstabbing behind the scenes. We all know the formalities are a bad act, but we grin and bear it, knowing, too, that it'll soon be over and we can dish about who was shooting up in the downstairs bathroom, who passed out in the hall closet, and which second cousins hooked up in the utility room.

To be perfectly clear: 

• My Aunt Eunice is NOT crazy.  The Secret Service, who's persecuting her with microwaves, is.
  
  
• My Uncle Duke is not crusty. He's flaky.



• My Cousins Denny and Matt, and my brother Carl are not "blowhards banging on at the table for hours about God knows what all."  And contrary to popular belief they do not monopolize the pool table whenever we go out drinking.
  
  
• My Aunt Henrietta and Aunt Lynnette are not backstabbers.  They are merely misunderstood.
  
  
• My nephew Ham was not shooting up in the downstairs bathroom.  Those are not trackmarks in his arms.  It was the cat.  I keep telling them they need to have it declawed.
  
  
• My niece Olive did not pass out in the hall closet, she was merely looking for her contact lens under a pile of coats.
  
  
• Landon did not slip Olive a roofie in order to feel her up in the closet, either.  He was helping her find her contact lens.