Throwing Poo

Lately, I can't help but want to fight a motherfucker.  Cut me off in your car, ogle my wife or pester me for my weekly TPS report and I just might punch your lights out.  Never mind that I'm a middle-aged man with ear hair and erectile issues (it happens to everyone, you know).  Let's go.  You and me.  Outside.  Now, bitch!

Most of my life I have avoided physical conflict.  Not that I run away from fights.  It's just that I've always felt the need to explain my side of the issue.  As a result of my compulsive blathering, most adversaries have either figured I was a coward or simply got bored.  It was a kind of unintentional pacifism through self-importance.

No more.  These days I would just as soon elbow a stranger in the face as excuse him for blocking my view of the New Releases shelf at Blockbuster.  Doddering old fools.

Why the change?  It's not bravado.  I generally hate people and suffer absolutely no need to impress them.  It's also not some internal need to prove my masculinity.  Having competed in various forms of kickboxing and karate for over a decade, I'm quite comfortable with my ability to whip a little ass if called upon.

Maybe the answer can be seen in the one incidence where this behavior has manifested itself.  Last summer my wife and I went to a Cleveland Indians games with some colleagues from her summer internship with a Federal Appeals Court Judge.  During the game a couple of drunks were dicking around in the bleacher section where we were sitting.  During a late inning they came walking through our row.  While passing in front of us, one of them acted like he lost he balance and "fell" into my wife - in my opinion, a blatant attempt to cop a feel.  Without thinking, I snatched him up by the jacket and, cursing like a madman, threatened all sorts of bodily harm while shoving him down the row.  I mean, I fucking LOST IT.  It's worth noting that these two guys were bigger than me and could've easily stomped my ass had they so chosen.

It seems this illustration offers two possible explanations.  One is now that I'm a family man, my primal intuition compels me to physically act without thinking in order to protect my clan.  The other is now that I'm a family man, I'm actively seeking out opportunities to end my life.  Either way, it might be best not to fuck with me for a while.