We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
1942?? Yikes. And I thought "the BBS days" was old. On the other hand, you can sense a certain timelessness about it, stretching all the way back to the days when they communicated long distance via cannon shot.
"The watch reports five cannon shots in the fog, sir, indicating we should turn south to avoid a collision."
"Balderdash! Give them six cannon shots in return! We're the HMS Valiant, the second-largest warship in the Northern Fleet, and we're not turning for anybody!"
"We gave them the six cannon shots, sir, and they responded with a single warning shot across our bow. What's that mean?"