The Rules

1: This is Liberty Hall, where you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard.

Which is to say I have, for purposes of debate, no sacred cows. It has happened, in the past, that some see my picture, or read that I’m in the Army, and assume things about my worldview. The same happens when they read a single piece of my writing. That way lies madness, for no man is all of a piece.

2: If you want to hang out and enjoy my railleries, listen to the side-chatter and say nothing, feel free. You don’t need to ask to friend me.

3: Be polite to my guests.

This is my place. I let others in because 1: I like them (if they are on my f-list, it’s because something about them struck me as worthy of some sort of regular attention), and 2:I am hospitable. Which means I am extending hospitality. They are my guests, and as such they get some protections (even when they don’t really need me to save them).

4: If you want to post, you need to be someone.  I don’t care who, but don’t play games with being one person today, and someone else tomorrow.

You want to be anonymous to the world, I don’t care. But you don’t get to come in here wearing a mask, shoot up my joint and ride out in a cloud of dust. You don’t even get to come in and be polite, buy a drink and pay the tab that way. I can’t shoot you dead at the saloon door, but I can refuse the right to enter. You want to be a mystery that’s fine, but you don’t get to be an enigma.

Yes, you can lie to me. You can give me a false e-mail, or a fake name, but that’s the way the game goes. You could do the same in a real saloon. Keep showing up, the locals will recognise you. Piss me off (or cause me to feel you’ve violated my hospitality to my guests) and I’ll refuse to serve you.

Those are pretty much all the rules.

Sit down a spell, put your feet up, take a load off.

The first round’s on me.