Anger Management

Why can’t people accept fellow human beings who have an easy-going demeanor, low stress attitudes and generally pleasant dispositions? I ask this rhetorical question because it makes me scratch my head whenever someone asks why are you so friendly? That alone wouldn’t be so bad except it’s often followed by either a desire to see me lose it or, the really crazy one, when someone says I’m going to try to make you angry.

Look, as we have discussed in these pages, I’m well-versed in the proper  delivery of Carlin’s famous seven words. Let’s carpool one day and I’ll show you. So, yes, I can get just as – shall we say – spirited as the next guy, but – I-285 during rush hour notwithstanding – it takes a lot to get me to that point. And when I hit that point – it ain’t pretty. Especially when my baby browns get all crazy, my voice kinda rises to a Robin Gibb falsetto and that slick sheen of sweat mixed with the fruits of overactive sebaceous glands start to congeal on my hairless dome like Valvoline 10-40 weight settles at the bottom of a busted hooptie’s oil pan (and it can’t be ignored that, as entertaining as it might be, bald, goatee sporting guys my size fully pissed off tend to scare certain demographic segments).

I digress.

To answer the question, why am I so nice, I could turn to any variety of Hallmark-like affirmations…

Kill them with kindness, catch more flies with sugar than vinegar (I never quite understood that), too blessed to be stressed.

But the main reason I rarely lose it – especially in professional situations (DANGER John, don’t get too close to talking shop) is that in 9.9999 out of 10 cases, most things and certainly most people aren’t worth the energy it takes– physical and/or mental – to have a hissy fit, pop a cork, blow a gasket, go postal, flip a lid, bang a gong, get it on, etc. And as I skate – like Eric Heiden in ’80 – across the slippery surface of the middle ages, I’m realizing that it takes more and more to get me to “that point”, because as the late, great Bernie Mac would have said, “I don’t give a fu……..,” well you know the rest!

Why can’t people accept fellow human beings with easy going demeanors, low stress attitudes and generally pleasant dispositions? I ask this rhetorical question because it makes me scratch my bald pate whenever someone asks why are you so friendly?  That alone wouldn’t be so bad except it’s often followed by either a desire to see me lose it or, the really crazy one, when someone says I’m going to try to make you angry.

Look, as we have discussed in these pages, I’m well-versed in the proper elocution and delivery of Carlin’s famous seven words. Let’s carpool one day and I’ll show you. So, yes, I can get just as – shall we say – spirited as the next guy, but – I-285 during rush hour notwithstanding – it takes a lot to get me to that point. And when I hit that point – it ain’t pretty. Especially when my baby browns get all crazy and that slick sheen of sweat mixed with the fruits of overactive sebaceous glands start to congeal on my hairless dome like Valvoline 10-40 weight settles at the bottom of a busted hooptie’s oil pan (and it can’t be ignored that, as entertaining as it might be, bald, goatee sporting guys my size fully pissed off tend to scare certain demographic segments).

I digress.

To answer the question, why am I so nice, I could turn to any variety of Hallmark-like affirmations…

Kill them with kindness, catch more flies with sugar than vinegar (I never quite understood that), too blessed to be stressed.

But the main reason I rarely lose it – especially in professional situations (DANGER John, don’t get too close to talking shop) is that in 9.9999 out of 10 cases, most things and certainly most people aren’t worth the energy it takes– physical and/or mental – to have a hissy fit, pop a cork, blow a gasket, go postal, flip a lid, bang a gong, get it on, etc. And as I skate – like Eric Heiden in ’80 – across the slippery surface of the middle ages, I’m realizing that it takes more and more to get me to “that point”, because as the late, great Bernie Mac would have said, “I don’t give a fu……..,” well you know the rest!

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One comment

  1. The diva

    You’re just one of the good guys … Go with it! Besides, I’ve seen you torqued up (details redacted to protect former colleagues) and you aren’t all that scary 🙂

    Like

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