Go over to Pharyngula, and read No Regrets Like Christmas Regrets
I’m not even sure what to say about this. A masterful example of literary excellence. This is without a doubt the single most moving piece of self-reflection I have read in a very long time.
Woe be unto him who, like me, assumed that P.Z. Myers’ only writing gift was the sledgehammer of in-your-face piss-off-I-am-not-amused ranting.
I admit it. It brought more than one tear to my eyes. It cut very close to the bone, my father being a carpenter and my having made a similar careless remark in my youth, with similar results.
I also share the nagging guilt for that thoughtlessly cruel remark, though my father is still alive.
Kudos, Dr. Myers. I doubt I could have ever expressed myself nearly as well as you have here. You have “waxed damned near poetic”, to borrow Janie’s phrase.