The last couple of entry's have really gotten my wife upset. She contends that by writing about fist-fights and tossing people out of cars, I'm describing myself as some kind of brute, lout or thug, lacking any measure of class, dignity or intellectual prowess. And, my disclosure of childish reactions in particular situations is quite embarrassing to her, at the very least.
I've replied that, as she certainly knows after our long time together, I'm a whole person, and as such, made up of many parts. And aside from my street-inspired reactions to those I find offensive, I graduated from some pretty good schools, held some big-time positions with some house-hold-name-type corporations and gotten myself published by The American Management Association, among others. So, I've told her I'm sorry for my other side, but as they say -like it or not, it comes with the dinner.
However, in thinking my response through again, I'm not sorry for the other part of me at all. In fact, I'm very glad it's there. Because, if it wasn't I'd be like every other wimp that gets walked over and pushed around by those who think they can. Or, worse yet, cringe, grovel and stay silent because someone says that to complain about or point out abusers and losers is politically incorrect.
My answer to that one is, you can take political correctness and stick it in your ear. Because I can't for the life of me understand why its my responsibility to make the tired, weak and incompetent feel better about themselves. If they've got some kind of problem or issue, let them go out and fix it. I've done that for myself all my life and so should they. I didn't make these people losers, they did it to themselves. And, even if whatever their problem is was caused by someone or something else, that someone wasn't me, so let them go out, find the perp and stay away from me in the process.
But now, coming back to today's issue and the miserable low-life creep that lives somewhere under my outward facade, I have to ask myself what would have happened over the course of my life if that SOB inside of me didn't exist. Would I have survived the streets of New York the way I did? Probably not.
Albeit I attended so-called good schools, even back then there were plenty of other students that weren't the dear, sweet little angels you'd expect from their generally above average parents. Thus it was pretty much guaranteed that if you weren't wary around them and fully able of taking care of yourself, these brats would eat your lunch in a flash. Because, after all, the city's still the city and kids will always be kids.
And how about the working environment, even in top drawer corporations? Regardless of how many coats of veneer you have over your competitive core, if you slip, trip or seem weak you'll get trampled before you can blink, by the scads of those who, quite naturally, want your job. And, their desire to replace you is not only an acceptable goal in business, it's simple human nature. So, even in that worldly, sophisticated, dignified, professional atmosphere, if there isn't some kind of toughness under your outward appearance, and you can't draw on it when you need it, your doomed to go up in flames so huge they'll be visible from Toledo. It's only a matter of when.
Now, how about social or public settings? People gathered together for pleasure in clubs, theaters, parks, beaches, restaurants, arenas, or in parking lots or shopping centers. Between cell phones, loud conversations, raucous laughter, elbowing, shoving or folks jockeying for better positions wherever they are, not caring a whit about whoever's deemed to be in their way -what do you do about them? Do you just tsk,tsk and mutter about how rude, crude and indifferent these louts really are? Or, do you try to do something about it, in whatever small way you can?
Well, I think one should try to do whatever one can to point out loutish behavior. And I further believe that if boorish practices aren't pointed out to the boors themselves, they'll only keep repeating the distasteful things they do. That's why I have no problem telling some loud oaf to shut up, or asking politely if some obnoxious creep would like to depart via the window. Because, if no one did things like that, how would these heathens ever learn proper behavior?
Of course, when all is said and done, I'm not really a teacher. And, even if I was, the misanthropes I've been writing about today aren't in my class, and never will be. Nevertheless, I still try to do what I can. So, looking at it that way, I guess I'm not really just a mindless thug at all, I'm actually a striving, good-hearted educator simply trying to teach certain folks valuable lessons they'll never forget.
That's it for today folks.
Adios
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