Dear Bastard Offspring,
I know, I know, I haven't written to you in an age and the age of man moves so damn swiftly doesn't it? They say that time flies like a New York minute when you are having fun.
I just wanted to say, to let you know, that I love you. I love all of my offspring. Your sibling brothers and sister and mixed blood cousins. But I also love you.
Canuck, dare I say it, is even bigger than you but has never attained or made his mark in our global society quite the way you have, but then again who has?
Oz? Ha! What can you say about dear old Oz? Nothing bruises that boy's ego and besides he does what he does and doesn't give a damn what any of us think, just stick another steak on the barbie!
Kiwi? Ah, so beautiful and, to be honest, my dear, more like me in looks than any of my rugged boys.
Yes, I am very proud of all my offspring.
But you my son, with your muscle and your might, with your industrious mind and the enormous wealth that you have accrued, it is you that worries me. Just a tad.
I watch you with such pride as you swagger about the globe like a comic book hero in your gaudy red, white and blue, fixing this and righting that. Sometimes you heart is too big and, as much as you try, even you cannot fix all of the global families woes.
There is another side of you though that frightens me and like any good parent or friend, I feel it is my honour bound duty to let you know.
Sometimes you behave like a school yard bully.
You come across someone who doesn't do things the way you do and, without consulting any of us or going through the proper channels you go ahead and let that passionate heart of yours rule your head. You raise your big ham of a fist and smack it firmly on Johnny Foreigners face. You kick his arse from here to hell and back.
Son, violence is sometimes necessary when defending yourself or those you love but breaking into someone’s house, smashing and burning their furniture, breaking the arms and legs of their children is not an act of defense but that of a vandal.
Of a hoodlum.
I really do think enough is enough don't you?
You have left your footprint on the surface of the moon. A testament to your everlasting and greatest achievement. I fear we both have left our boot print on the face of the Middle East.
Being the biggest and the best means that your mistakes can be proportionately as large. We all make mistakes and we all have to own up to them. I have. Remember the poor old Boers?
As I said, we all are guilty of making mistakes but we all have to know when to stop and when to put things right before they get worse.
Only you can decide.
Your loving parent,
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.