On the liberation of not taking shit

I have a confession.  I don’t like taking shit. From anybody. I’m human. I’ve taken shit. From lot’s of people. But it sucks. You know it. I know it. Lately though, I just have refused to do it. 

A few weeks ago, I had been playing poker with this fat fuck who kept needling me, for about a year. I’m sure he is a nice guy, really. But for some reason, like the school yard bully, he thought that he could keep needling me, insulting me, treating me with disrespect, because he out-weighs me by 100 lbs., give or take a gross of twinkies. One night, after some same-old same-old give and take, I had enoough, and, long story short, I threatened to kill the M’ Fer. In front of two, count ’em TWO, tables of Texas Hold ’em players.  Guess what. Ole Teddy blinked. He later took me off his Evite list, but he don’t fuck with me no more…Oh, and Ted, I meant it, old chap.

More recently, whilst up in Michigan for Uncle Jim’s memorial service, I had a run-in with one of the most notorious tough guys in Farwell, Michigan–if you listen to him at least.  Always he talks tough, wants to measure his dick against  yours, yada yada yada.  Driving home one night from a bar, he explains how he is gonna kick my ass if I don’t do this, that or the other thing.  So I pull over, on the highway, at about 2:00 a.m.  Complete darkness, snow blowing, deer doing what deer do, etc.  Can’t even get the car off the highway–too much snow. I get out, he gets out, and we get it on in the middle of the highway. 

Fortunately, no traffic was coming. It was very Fight Club-esque.  Gritty.  Snowing. Mid-twenties. Wind blowing. Deserted highway for miles.  He out weighed me by 10-20 lbs., and it was packed in a Neanderthal frame 4 inches shorter, 18 years younger, and several evolutionary branches below me.  But that night, I had the “I don’t give a fuck anymore attitude” in my favor. 

I wish I could give you a blow by blow description, but I can’t. A few beers does that to you.  All I remember is  blood covering all his front teeth, and a look of disbelief that this old man had punched him, hard, in the mouth, and then him raining blows down on me while doing his best hockey thug imitation (he pulled my jacket up over my head while pummeling me–HEY, you ripped my lambskin leather jacket you punk!). 

The rough housing was over in mere minutes. Remarkably, no cops showed  up and arrested us.  I still have the scabs and lumps from his fists to the top of my head–I ducked when he had my coat over my head and was thumping me.  But  you know what? I have never felt so good in years. I’ve spent my life avoiding fights, acting civilized.  Haven’t fought since just out of high school 30+ years ago.

I made a discovery.  Fighting is fun. Not giving a shit is fun.  Nobody wants to fuck with the weirdo who just doesn’t care.  I’m not talking about going around looking for a fight. That’s what punks do. I’m talking about not backing down when some other dude comes looking for it. Being a pacifist is way over-rated.

Fortunately, younger, bigger, tougher dude was so astounded by my aggressiveness that he agreed to a truce. Before he killed me.  But you know what? I did not care.  For that night I was ready.  I felt like “Fight Club.”  And you know what? I’ve found that nobody likes to mess with a 50+ old geezer who is armed and dangerous and who no longer gives a shit.

WARNING: Kids, don’t try this at home. I’ve lasted long enough that I have all my teeth and can afford facial reconstruction should I lose a fight. Oh, and I have several thousand dollars of life insurance with my wife as the beneficiary.

pssst. Don’t tell my wife, who occasionally reads this blog. TIA

4 responses to “On the liberation of not taking shit

  1. I hear you, man. There have been a few occasions in my life, too, where I’ve had that “Bring it on!” feeling, and it is truly liberating.

  2. was just turning 21, still in the NAVY and I decided that for TOO long I had swallowed enough shit. I put my foot down and damn it felt good. One night after I left the Navy, I was screwin this broad that had the misfortune of liking me. Well, this dude named Allen, who was one of the housemates, decided he liked this woman. He wanted to fight for her…I said…and I quote…”I don’t give a fuck about that bitch, she ain’t nothin but a piece of meat anyway”…well, Allen to offense to this and decided he was gonna try me out. After tossing him into his 55 gallon fish talk and then dropping his tv on his chest, he decided HE NO LONGER wanted to try his luck. I helped him up, helped clean his room, and even bought those two a beer. He said to me that night, “What is it with you…you don’t care about her but you’re willing to fight over her”…I just laughed out loud and said “I just don’t give a fuck anymore” and that was that. He kinda just shook his head and hey, who knows, maybe they are still living in VA Beach somewhere, all happy and shit…but I know I never looked back. I hope he remembers the lesson from that day…I sure do…Don’t mess with someone that just don’t give a shit !

  3. Frank, long time no see. I thought you forgot about this here blog. Something tells me that you have more stories very similar to that one.🙂

  4. John, I’ve been here all along, I just get so fuckin’ pissed at the liberal screw jobs in this town, I choose not to comment cuz if I see them on the street and they “want some”…they will get some !!!!

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