For the first time in my life, I can't write what I want to.

No, a stern editor hasn't muzzled me. No, The Crimson hasn't made a decision to take away my freedom to make myself as stupid as I want.

In fact, I am just as free to insult, ridicule and slander as in past columns. It's a privilege I've abused in the past--believe it or not--and one that I undoubtedly will abuse again.

Just under a year ago, I called 100,000 people a bunch of names. I hit 'em, like we used to say in high school, where they lived.

And they hit me back, since I was where they lived at the time.

Duluth.

This time around, I was planning a funny piece about Kalamazoo, Mich., the home of Western Michigan University, this year's NCAA quarterfinal opponent.

I was going to say that I was sorry to see Harvard get home ice and miss a trip to another medium-sized Midwestern city.

I was going to list all of the interesting things going on in Kalamazoo this time of year. All the things to do. All the things to see.

And I was going to be sincere. Really.

Then I started to write and my list of things to do in Kalamazoo grew and grew and grew.

Not only long but sarcastic.

How could I talk about the Kalamazoo Air Zoo and its famous warbirds of World War II exhibit and keep up a pretense of sincerity?

My intention, however noble, was doomed from the start.

I was paralyzed. I was not--I repeat not--paralyzed because there was nothing good I could say about Kalamazoo, but because of the credibility gap.