Anger Management
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Society today sickens me. To think that pants that sag to the knees are acceptable, but yet a gay man can’t show his affections to his partner in most public places. A professional woman is considered selfish if she chooses not to oblige her family and not have children or even get married until she is in her mid thirties. A young girl can get pregnant and all of us have to pay for daycare, diapers, and formula. We bitch to high heaven about it, yet we as a public refuse to endorse more explicit sex education and the distribution of birth control in the public school system.
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Europeans let their minors choose weather or not they want to be alcoholics and we force ours into becoming dependant on foreign substances. We teach our youth that anything legally unattainable is what they are destined for. I say let the sixteen year old have a beer, with supervision of course. Let him have his first hangover then let him make his own decision whether or not he wants to be the youngest member sitting in a twelve-step program for lushes.
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If we as a society are more open minded it would teach the youth of tomorrow that making our own decisions is acceptable. that we can be what we want to be and it is ok to not to be the norm. By the way what is the norm? We teach our children that just because the kid next door wears hand me downs and his parents work two minimum wage jobs he isn’t worthy of being invited to their party because we don’t want ‘those’ kind of people in our house. For Christ sakes it’s not the damn kid’s fault.
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That’s another thing, religion has gotten way out of hand. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of being called immoral just because I don’t go to church three days a week. Society has painted a picture of ourselves that is impossible for us to live up to, so we down anyone and anything that is different than we are. For all those people out there who are like me and are not the “norm” whether it is because of wardrobe choices, lifestyle alterations or because you fall into the category of minority in any sense of the word, don’t worry it is just that, “People are afraid of all things which they know nothing about.”
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A wise man once told me that ignorance is bliss and the rest of us are just ingenious. I truly believe this is true. The majority of the world falls into the ignorant population and this is why our children are turning out so twisted. There are more unmarried 14 to 20-year olds having children than the more appropriate middle-aged ‘married’ couples. From a young age most girls are taught that they should come last in their life plan, and marriage is first, children second, god or religion third and then if there is any amount of energy left over, they need to divide that between the pets, the neighbors, and themselves. Come on, what in the hell are we teaching these kids? Then we whine and complain when we are sixty years old raising our second set of offspring that we didn’t even birth from our own lions.
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Come on world, stand up grow a fucking backbone, decide if you want your kids to be drunken, pregnant, ignorant, shallow potheads or respectable citizens. Then act appropriately. Take them to a shelter and show them what it’s like not to have a warm meal three times a day everyday. Teach them the true meaning of the golden rule. The next time you are driving down the road with your kids in tow, and you see a homeless guy with a sign ‘will work for food.’ you don’t have to give him the twenty you’re getting ready to spend. But you can pull into a Wendy’s, spend the change in your ashtray and buy the man some fries. Make sure they know that if they ever wind up being that homeless person maybe just maybe there will be that one nice soul who feeds their hunger. Let them make mistakes and instead of taking the responsibility of owning up to it away from them and cleaning up the mess for them (come on you know you are guilty of this) stand behind them and coach them on how to pick themselves up and put the pieces back together themselves.
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So I leave you saying this: stand up, grow some balls and you will be ten times happier. Your children, their children and your children’s children will thank you if you start contributing to the world’s good karma now.
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This was in my mind when I got off after working the 3 to 11 shift at a rehab intake facility very close to downtown. I was setting at a red light waiting for it to change. The street was pretty much deserted, except for an occasional car or two. I foolishly had my window most of the way down. All of a sudden, out of nowhere a black man appears at the door of my car, sticks a gun in the window towards my head screaming at me to get out of the car.
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My startled reaction was to step on the gas, and speed through the intersection. The force of the car surging forward knocked the gun out of the guy’s hand, and it landed in my lap. I was so shocked that when I saw the gun, I foolishly stopped. Suddenly rage took over and I was pissed, really pissed. This total stranger was going to carjack and quite possibly kills me. When I turned my car around and return to the intersection, I see the guy get clumsily up and when he sees me, he starts running down the sidewalk in front of the closed businesses. I follow him as 1 then 2 blocks go by. As if in a daze, he continued to follow the sidewalk to the next intersection. I can tell by his stumbling gait that he’s tiring.
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At the next intersection, he turns right, still running along the sidewalk with no place to slip into. It's after 11:00 PM and all the stores and businesses are closed.
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Finally, exhausted, he stumbles to the ground. I pull up and get out of my car with his gun in my hand. It is a revolver, so as I walk towards him, I push on the cylinder release and it swings out to the left side of the gun. When I see that it is fully loaded, I push the cylinder back into place.
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As I casually approach this would be robber, I see that he’s absolutely spent. Huffing and puffing, he appears not to have the strength to even get up.
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As I approach him he has a smirk on his face as he asks, “What chu gonna do man? Shoot me?"
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As he watches, my arm raises with the gun in my hand. With my thumb, I pull the hammer of the gun back, and hear a loud click as it locks into place. Time stands still. I am maybe 3-feet from this piece of shit. Everything now seems to be in slow motion now as I point the gun down at his right knee. My hand is even shaking now. This feels right. With a smile, I slowly squeeze the trigger. I notice the flash from the barrel, but oddly enough, I don't seem to hear the gun shot.
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He screams and is writhing in pain as blood from his leg oozes onto the sidewalk.
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Lifting the gun, I aim at his other knee. He’s probably begging and pleading but I can’t hear him. I don't even hear him screaming when I fire the second shot.
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I push the cylinder release on the gun once again. The cylinder swings out to the left side of the gun. I turn the gun in an upward motion and 4-bullets and two spent casings fall into my left hand. With a flick of the wrist, I swing the cylinder back into place. As I put the bullets and casing into my left pant pocket, I pull the tucked in tail of my neatly pressed Polo shirt out from the waist of my pleated trousers. Carefully, I wipe the gun down. Polishing it all over until it shines as it did the day it was new. Paying special attention to the trigger, hammer and grip of the gun. Then gripping the gun with the tail of my shirt, I toss the weapon down to the man writhing in pain. It bounces on the hard cement sidewalk.
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Then still without a word, I tuck in my shirt, turn and walk calmly back to my car. As I pull away, I notice the sounds of the screaming man. I even notice that he is withering on the sidewalk and holding his bloody, blown apart knees.
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Making my way to the toll road, I head north.
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When I arrive home, my lovely wife is in bed reading a book. She welcomes me with a kiss, and asks, "How was work?"
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"It was great! I really like my job. Counseling people in anger management at the VA hospital is really rewarding,” I reply as I walk into the bathroom, and wrap the bullets from my pocket in a Kleenex, and place them in the wastebasket. " I'm hungry. I think I'll make a sandwich before I come to bed,” I tell my wife as I put on my robe.
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