Lies, hunger strikes and swollen digits

I know I've been a little quiet of late. One reason is that I locked myself in my secret bunker by mistake. It took the rest of my family three days to discover that super dad had not disappeared on another one of his clandestine missions. I have been known to vanish for a while without telling them -- if they know, they can be tortured for information by atheist communist terrorists or by liberal pacifist Christians. And they don't have to lie on my behalf either, although that would not be a bad thing. Remember the story of the whore in Jericho who hid the servants of Yahweh and lied about it to the assassins? She was considered a righteous person for doing this, even though she was shagging for a living. But I know my kids -- they can't lie with a straight face. Not yet. It's part of their basic training programme in the Lord's army, but I just can't risk it until they're lethal spiritual fighting machines.

So I've been recovering after my forced hunger strike, which is why my blog has not seen much action recently.

The other reason is that Liberty slammed my fingers in the garage door. By mistake. So he says. But we had just used him as a moving, running, ducking, diving target in a game of paintball, which was a particularly aggressive one as I was trying out my latest, custom-designed paintball gun. Let's just say he took more hits than a Sudanese convert / house slave should. To the head. Repeatedly.

As you know, successful blogs demand rigorous typing. My bruised, swollen fingers didn't allow it initially, although I've ploughed through today's post with all but three fingers still twice their normal size. If I've never boasted about my incredible, supernatural pain threshold before, well, now is as good a time as any.

Fight the good fight. If Liberty behaves and I don't lock myself in my bunker again, you should hear from me pretty soon. But if I'm locked in that bunker, well, I have lots to read down there.