Last night at the CDexchange, it was brought to my attention that, back in the "cool-to-be-angst-ridden, percolating punk" university days, I had compiled a list of people I'd like to kill.
Apparently it was a list of local, national and maybe even perhaps international figures who had in some way rubbed me the wrong way and therefore were deemed worthy to be rubbed out themselves. To be honest, I don't remember the contents of the list, but I vaguely, in a suggested-memory Manchurian Candidate way, remember that a list existed.
Let it be know, now, that I hereby revoke that list, and pardon everyone who may have appeared on it for whatever reason.
Except that one guy with the thing, and the thing on the thing. You know who you are.