Here is why I love my job. After coming back from a weeklong vacation, my inbox is full of e-mails like this one, which is titled "your junk article" and reads, in [sic] and full:

No wonder your keeping away from the internet after writing that Ron Paul article, that was the LAST Stranger I will read. Have you ever done any REAL research?

Just like the others…

Junk paper…

Terrorist in caves…

I’ve got a bridge to sell you!

(A bridge, you say? Will the steel that this bridge is made out of melt when exposed to burning jet fuel? If not, you've got a deal!) Also in my inbox: Someone offering $1000 to debate him about WTC Building Seven. I'd sooner debate a three-year-old about the existence of Santa. If there's one thing I've learned from my contact with Truthers, it's that they're not interested in listening to reason: "But if they is no Santa, why is they pwesents unda the twee on Chwistmas mowning?"

And in the comments to the story that incited all this scintillating commentary (about Ron Paul, 9/11 Truthers, and pizza that does not—for once!—have anything to do with Herman Cain) one particularly weird commenter keeps calling me "neo-con Paul Constant." Come on, son! You call that name-calling? Any third grader worth his or her salt would be able to make the leap to "Paul Neo-Constant." Get on your game, kid. Everyone else: Find out why my welcome-home parade is full of pitchforks and crazy-juice right over here.