I'm in Vegas right now, and I think I've caught something.

Out of nowhere, I feel like puking my guts out.

That said, I have just enough energy to post, so that's what I'm going to do. If I die of barf, then at least I managed to get this one last bit out.

Basically, I've spent the past few days thinking about last week, and I've come to the conclusion that I was right to have taken the posts down. I had a principle about not taking posts down, regardless of how much trouble they get me into, but I've realized that this was just stupid, and it's really been the only part of my life that I've lived on principle.

On principle, I don't like to do things on principle.

Principle is stupid. You get caught up in a particular behavioral pattern, and it keeps you from seeing any alternatives to a given action.

Something happened on the flight out here that made me think about this.

What you're about to see is a not-exactly-factual account of something that may or may not have happened on the plane, but you weren't there, and for all you know this did happen, so I'm just going to pretend that it did, and I'm not going to admit that it only kind of happened and that I embellished things a little for the sake of this post (I'd go back and fix the structure of this sentenceparagraph, but I can feel half-digested food knocking on the door in my stomach which reads "NO EXIT," insisting that it be let out the way it came in, making up some excuse about how it thinks it left the iron on and wants to get back out so that it can check):

See where principle got the airline attendants?

Now, I'll take my leave of you in order that I might engage in the Vomolympics by myself in a bathroom somewhere.

Actually, I might not go by myself. The nice thing about Vegas is that it seems you can almost always count on not being the only person barfing in a stall somewhere.