1. The author of Clown Central Station is, by the standards of our society, a big fat guy.
2. The author of Clown Central Station enjoys jokes about big fat guys, but only if they're really funny.
3. The author of Clown Central Station firmly believes that using Photoshop to insert a picture of a giant sandwich into the outstretched hands of a big fat guy is almost always funny.
4. Even if that big fat guy were, for example, himself.
5. But if the big fat guy in question is a crazy right-wing mass murder enthusiast?
5a. Who, incidentally, writes video-game-themed fan fiction?
6. Funnier still!
7. The author of Clown Central Station recognizes that there are other big fat guys, as well as big fat girls, and non-big non-fat persons of every conceivable gender permutation, who do not appreciate the humor of portraying a crazy right-wing mass murder enthusiast/big fat guy with a giant sandwich in his outstretched hands. This is hard to understand -- I, a big fat guy who has enjoyed a giant sandwich as recently as Tuesday, can scarcely type the words "big fat guy" and "giant sandwich" without collapsing into helpless big fat guy laughter -- but I recognize that this is the case.
8. That said, the author of Clown Central Station believes that one should always disarm the bomb before rearranging the night stand on which it sits. To put it another way, perhaps when we are sufficiently advanced that we are no longer in jeopardy of big fat guys wrecking our economy, destroying our environment, crushing our civil rights, and leading us into pointless, blood-soaked wars, then we can focus our attention on whether or not it's okay to call them big fat guys.
9. George Bush's chimp ears are just as God made them, and just because Massa hits you with a whip doesn't mean you should call him a cracker. Still, who can account for the delight of the soul?
10. Should a moratorium be reached among my people that no big fat guy of the right may henceforth be depicted holding a giant sandwich, I will be happy to host such ideologically unsuitable photographs here. I have no sense of decency.
10b. In this sense, I resemble every fucking right-winger on the planet, who, the minute they see that thread over at Feministe, are going to be saying "HAW HAW LOOKIT THE LARDOS MICHAEL MOORE FAGIT-ASS FATTY FAT FAT PUSSY" (I paraphrase somewhat), regardless of their own big-fat-guyness or lack thereof. Therein, it might be argued, lies a thing that is essential; but my stock in trade is clowning, not thinking. Thus ends my ten-