I hit a library sale this morning with my boss.
He had a hot tip on a big donation of quality goods, so up I got at the crack of dawn.
While we were arranging my membership with a disorganized volunteer (a five dollar donation gets you in the door an hour before the lumpen masses) a belligerent toad of a guy got sassy with the boss. The liberal traitors may have undermined our glorious victory in Iraq, but he'd be DAMNED if they cut in front of him in line at the library sale!
So I'm filling out my thing and this guy keep jawing, getting more and more worked up, which is patently ridiculous if you know my boss.
He's a meek looking balding fellow, about as confrontational as Woody Allen and not much bigger. By the time I finished and paid the bosses efforts to talk down our bilious companion in line had driven him to a borderline foaming rage, and he threatened to hit him. This brought a mild response from the volunteers but inspired me to turn around, loom over him and say in a cold, dead voice "nobody's cutting in your line, so calm down."
This had an understandably salutary effect- his greasy mop of hair couldn't crest my rib cage, even with the help of a pair of thick soled army surplus boots. He sank resentfully back into his pool of bile.
It was an interesting result.
Despite my great bulk, I'm about as lethal as Gandhi. The most violent act in a notably mild life is probably watching the whole Gatti/Ward trilogy in one sitting.
The boss, on the other hand and in spite of his stereotypically nebbishy deportment, is a 20 year student of akido, a certified black belt equipped to transmute any aggressor into a groaning pretzel of torment with three deceptively delicate sweeping movements of his arms.
Is it just me, or is this the psychology of the entire right wing in a nutshell?
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