Friday, April 17, 2015

The Wrong Side of the Line

I used to think that I would live long enough to outgrow the urge to find - on an almost-daily basis if not in fact one per day - a human being whose behavior is so utterly despicable that I want to punch him or her in the larynx.  At some point, sadly, my optimism on that score dropped from cautious to non-existent.  I fear that much like the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria that ship too has sailed. 

Full disclosure dictates that I own up to the fact that my name appears on not very many - OK not any - "Top Ten Person" lists.  And for good reason.  That plum about which Sinatra sings about having been plucked from the tree of life?  I resemble that piece of fruit not at all.  But there is a chasm that separates those of us who are simply unpleasant from those who reveal themselves to be untrustworthy, mud-sucking, pathetic mutha phuckas (as my great, great grandpa Phineas used to call them).  It is a line on whose wrong side one should aspire to avoid.  Not everyone does.  Those who are utterly reprehensible pieces of human dreck never even make an effort to do so.  

If you lack the skill set, the mental acuity and/or THE BALLS to engage an adversary fairly and in a manner that permits you to maintain a modicum of dignity, then you need to stand back and perform a very searching examination of yourself.  And if the person you have foolishly decided you shall attempt to skull phuck looks anything at all like the angry, ever-older man who stares back at me in the bathroom mirror every morning, then I assure you that in time you will understand that you should have been exceedingly more careful in the expenditure of that wish.  

That is all.  


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