Here's a comment to an older post, the one about the prizefighter hit and killed by a van while cycling in London:
henry has left a new comment on your post "Buncha pansy ballet dancers....":
"Talking of pansy ballet dancers, you should go re-read your own hissy whine regarding your inability to guilt Duane into reworking your /5 BMW. Your panties were too tight then, and old age has not worked them any looser. Sad little man."
henry, thanks for writing. Happy New Year to you and yours, whoever and wherever you are.
For clarification, I didn't ask Duane to rework my BMW; I asked him to fix it and charge me. It threw me in the freeway at high speed as many of them did. Duane, a professional BMW mechanic, was the only guy anyone knew of who claimed to know how to fix them. I didn't try to guilt him into doing his job; I asked him to do it for pay, as he advertised he would. He refused.
I can't imagine what that story has to do with cyclists being called pansy ballet dancers. I think it has more to do with some grudge you've been holding against me for pointing an accusing finger at one of your heroes.
I did point that finger, and I put my name on the story. I'm never anonymously critical. Unlike, dear henry, your worthy self.
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