Shelly Powers was upset because Glenn Reynolds and other warbloggers like myself want more Iraqis who want us dead dead, and complained that he hasn’t written about the abuses in Abu Ghraib when she wrote her Instafuckyou post (though he did, at 540p, post hockey ergo propter hockey credit to Shelley, yeah sweetie you made him write about it). Later on she is shocked, shocked, that so many of us think we’re right. Not “Right” like right-winging deathbeasts — we scare her bad enough — but that we are so goddamned sure and proud of our opinions. A word to the wise, Shelley. Do not confuse humility with a lack of conviction; nor confidence with hubris. I write what I believe is right and do so because I believe it’s right. Day by day I question my own beliefs and they come up valid. I present my opinions with humility, because I call them opinions. No one has to agree with me. And for as long as my opinions are well-founded they are not “wrong.” Should I, then, present them to the world with my head down? Whatever. Last night I went to a bar and had two Irish Car Bombs, a Red-Headed Slut and three budweisers. It was karaoke night; I sang, I was terrible, and I got drunk in public for the first time in a very long time.