Know when to fold them

Yesterday I did the only thing I could think of to do; I dumped the problem I was having with his family on four other people who loved my missing colleague more than I did. Three of them agreed with me and are taking over where I folded. One flipped out, got really offensive, and, well, I won't have to worry about choosing out Christmas presents for her anymore. What the fuck is wrong with Americans, anyways? She's the same person who calmy explained to me once why it was right Hillary Clinton didn't dump her husband when he stuck that cigar up the intern (because she's a politician, and she knew that people would never elect a divorced person to be president, because divorcées couldn't possibly keep the country in order if they couldn't keep their own marriage in order, and yes, Mistress La Spliffe, that makes perfect sense.) I keep discovering new and unsettling veins of weirdness and conventionality in those people.

Last word on this aspect of the subject:

Bigotry isn't just things you yell at wops, krauts, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here, etc, on the street when you're fucking insane. It can also mean not informing the investigating authorities of someone's woppitude, krautdom, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here etc. when they go missing in Central America on vacation, you suspect foul play, he hasn't been robbed, his woppitude, krautdom, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here, etc., may have left him vulnerable to foul play, and, erm, he hasn't yet told his parents about the woppitude, krautdom, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here, etc.

It can mean prioritizing the sensibilities of family or friends as concerns the woppitude, krautdom, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here, etc. over exhausting every possible (indeed, in the circumstances, reasonably probable) avenue of inquiry as to the fate of said wop/kraut, insert derogatory ethnicity/sexuality/visible denomination here, etc.

I haven't stopped feeling like being sick. But at least I've made it other peoples' problem now to decide about going over the family's head, instead of mine - dumped it on the consciences of consciousnesses more wrapped up in this than I am. And in the process, I also feel like I flushed a bitch out of the closet, although probably in a few weeks or months or years I'll calm down and start missing her salty company. That's fucking DELEGATION, baby, it's awesome. No wonder U2 wrote a song about it. At least I think that's what those micks were yowling about.

But fuck, I miss him so.