I'm a Lover, Not a Hater

This isn't going to be another post about Lance Armstrong, is it?
Yes it is.
Gaaaad.  I'm so sick of this.  Can't we just go back to close-ups of nipples and detailed descriptions of your time in Vietnam?
Which, as you'll remember, was zero.
I know.  But I love reading that stuff.
Thanks.
So no more Lance stuff?  The man is insufferable.
Okay, just this last one.
Then no more?
No more, other perhaps than a passing mention every once in a while.
Okay.
And in July, for the duration of the Tour, I retain my right to say anything I like about Lance, at any length I choose.
Of course.  It's Le Tour.
Yes it is.
Okay.  Go ahead.
Okay.

Last post about Lance:

I forgive him.  I'm a lover, not a hater, and I've just decided to forgive the man.  Not forget, but forgive.  And move on.

There, that wasn't so bad was it?
No.  I admire your brevity.
It's the soul of wit.
Interesting you should say that, since you're a guy who likes to drag a joke out to the point of excruciating.
That's a different sort of wit.
Oh.
Here's one of my famous mammogram paintings ...

Compelling, no?
Thank God!  We're back to nipples!