In my constant quest for truth, justice and a decent workplace, yet again I am faced with the option of letting my inner demons get the best of me and offend someone to the point of tear shed, or hold my peace until they realize that they have fucked up or are actually in the midst of not only fucking up, but making themselves look extremely foolish in the meanwhile. The latter has proven quite satisfying for the sheer amusement I receive of someone contradicting him or herself, later to clarify, justify and defend issues not currently being discussed in a futile attempt to swerve the topic at hand. It’s actually quite a beautiful process watching an idiot mind at work and I’ve lately had the privilege of seeing one of these in the front row. Yes, that includes spit particles staining my shirt and the hint of pesto, garlic and cigarettes being blasted my way via incoherent (and loud) rambling.
The process in itself is almost like an absurd ballet where you have the stricken take a defensive position even if you’re unarmed and uninterested in beginning a conflict. Later you must heighten the pulse rate to in between that of when having pleasant sex and the heart beat of when you’re giving the last push during your thankful conquest of a severe case of constipation. Then, pull on vocal chords so normal voice patterns are altered to mimic a would-be human imitating a would-be coyote with a nice raspy jazz undertone while screeching in Roseanne Barr fashion. Flex muscles to create unnecessary tension, thus producing a slight hunch not as much as the one associated with Notre Dame’s notable hunchback but no less than a Vietnamese hooker with rheumatic arthritis, strep throat and an inconsistent itch three inches below her left buttocks. Add to this swollen temples beating to the rhythm of some annoying bluegrass number with a heavy banjo beat, rupture eye capillaries and oxen flared nostrils. Add some poorly chosen words of them sharing information that nullifies potential trump cards they could use in the future and voila, there’s your schmuck, panting, slightly damp and completely successful in making an ass out of themselves.
After huffing and puffing with all its might, this creature is finally tamable and a hell of a lot more pleasant to deal with. So next time you are tempted to engage in verbal fisticuffs, orget-fay iscussing-day ith-way the ackass-jay. You’ll thank me later.