FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
Guy walks into a bar. A pudgy dude. Middle aged. Puts on brass knuckles and invites all comers. He ends up getting arrested.
Zing! Pow! That’s hilarious!
This really happened. For no apparent reason (i.e. alcohol, I’m guessing), this guy decided to go pick a fight.
I’ve never understood the desire to beat someone down physically. I understand wanting to win at a game. Do better on an exam. Score higher in Frogger (kids, ask your parents). I even get that circumstances can align so that all you really want to do is punch somebody in the face.
But I’ve never done it. Meanwhile, lots of other people live for the…what? adrenalin rush? the thrill? the bloodlust? of pummeling another person. Not me.
I’ve had people get in my face. Tell me they didn’t respect me as a human being. There was even the guy at the bar years and years ago who, after I politely and, I thought, jovially, suggested he move on when my friends were growing tired of his lame attempts to hit on them, suggested we step outside. We didn’t though. Other guys would have perhaps leapt up from the table and gone outside to exchange bloody noses.
Not me and my second – my buddy who reluctantly backed me up. We engaged in a careful strategy of keeping things light as possible until the dude, already drunk, got bored and moved on.
A lot of guys wouldn’t have though. Not us. The fact that we would have no doubt gotten our collective asses kicked by this guy no matter how drunk he was doesn’t mitigate the fact this was the right course.
Fighting doesn’t solve anything, especially picking random fights with strangers which, come on, has to stem from some need to fix whatever’s broken inside you by letting someone else beat it out of you.
Not me. Never me.
Not my kids either.
Maybe that’s how we make the world a better place. One kid at a time who uses his wits instead of his brass knuckles.
Man, I’m a wuss.
There should be more of me around.