I Don’t Like Confrontation But I Don’t Fear It Either

Went down to Tinseltown to see the Fate Of The Furious because I needed mindless action to distract me because I had spent way too much time thinking about three major life decisions.

The movie was good and it did the trick but I wasn’t particularly enamored with some of the young bucks who figured trying to push by me to get a seat was necessary.

One bounced off of me and made a point to try his thousand yard stare upon me and I gave it back with a quick comment.

“I can’t decide who committed the bigger choke job, the Falcons or the Warriors.”

Took him about five seconds to tell me the Cowboys suck and for me to laugh because I am a Raiders fan and wasn’t emotionally invested in Dallas winning or losing.

Would have been cool if they did, but they didn’t spend any time feeling bad for letting me down and I didn’t cry because they didn’t think of me.

I’ll never forgive the NFL for letting the Pats cheat their way past my Raiders because the tuck rule is nonsense and always has been.

But I’ll grudgingly give Brady and company credit for making the system work for them.


On the other hand, I didn’t think LeBron was enough of a competitor to will his team back and I give him full credit.

They shouldn’t have won that championship but he put them on his back and made it happen. If he never wins another championship that one will be enough to keep his name in the conversation about great wins.

I Don’t Like Confrontation But I Don’t Fear It Either

The best part of feeling torn open and exposed is knowing you can let it beat you down or you can push back and move on.

I remember being told by a former boss that my actions proved I wasn’t a real warrior and I didn’t know how to fight back.

He told me later he thought I was more effective and better at my job when I was angry. He confessed he would intentionally do things to piss me off because he knew I liked the fight.

That is not true.

I am not afraid of getting into it, but I don’t like it.

Hell, if you must know I hate the anticipation. I hate wondering what it feels like to get hit, but I kind of like the adrenaline surge that comes after.

Especially when you get your bell rung and you realize you just got knocked harder than you expected.

Maybe I have seen too many movies, but I like the guy who gets knocked down and then gets back up. The one who takes the hit and keeps going.


There was a moment when I gave my own thousand yard stare to the aforementioned boss.

He took two steps back, but I never moved. I just stared at him and tried to figure out if he was really that dumb.

He was and maybe still is, been so many years since I had any contact I can’t tell you what happened to him.

What I can tell you is that one time he told me success meant working harder and I pushed back and said hard work without purpose and clear goals was a waste of energy.

The Great Adventure

Got to get on a plane again in a very short time and head off into the wild blue yonder but I won’t be flying on United.

Suppose that is a good thing because brass knuckles aren’t allowed on planes and I am not sure if my index finger is up to being yanked hard or smashed into others.

It is clearly not 100 percent yet and I am not sure when it will be. I did file a complaint with its manager and threatened to write it up for  being subordinate but it told me to STFU.

Guess the reports of mutiny aren’t the facetious murmurs of my knees or neck. Someone remind them I am not afraid to smash them with a hammer.

We will have order, pass the Ibuprofen.


Anyhoo, life is going to be somewhere between sedate and ludicrous for a good while and though I am determined to bend it to my will there is reason to believe the horses pulling the cart will test me.

So I am doing my best to see this as an adventure and to remember that heroes don’t get to be heroes unless they are sorely tested.

That reminds me, I have been tested before by some of the best doctors and they threw their hands up in despair.

Apparently I am not just certifiable, I am post certifiable, whatever the hell that means.

So I’ll take my beating and say thank you sir may I have another until their hand/paddle breaks, or so I hope.

Never know, they might break my ass or leave it so sore I don’t dare sit.

Something tells me that is unlikely because whatever was going to break snapped off a thousand years ago and now I am just unfiltered and running with the moon.

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