What You Are Laughing At

How's That Working Out For Ya?

I just read The Mastermind's blog about Monday night, and I'll tell ya... I love that guy. So real, so brutal, so depressed. Go read his, and then read the other blogs there, too. See, blogging is this weird, self-gratifying act of writing your thoughts as if anyone would read them... as if anyone truly cares. It's just entertainment. Hell, I'm sharing cyberwads with Recipes, True Mind Masters, and deviance so deviant it would be deviant to link them here. Get one on your own time, it's America, you have options. Just imagine words like "soaked," "drenched," and "spandex." I'm sure you'll find something.

Anyway, Mastermind's blog talked of how he spent some time correcting the actions of a performer, and I was totally with him on the moment to do so. See, Art's been on stage enough to know that, when you're done, you holster the mic, you SET THE STAGE for the next act. It's courtesy, it's professionalism, it's WHAT YOU FRIGGIN' DO. I told Mastermind I thought it was good opener, just jokin', ya know, seein' as how, golly, it's WHAT I FRIGGIN' DO. I don't know if that rubbed him the wrong way, but if it did, see, that's not on me. It wasn't meant to, but if he took it to heart that's on him. It's called Frame Of Reference.

Some people are easily offended. They don't like loud music, loud clothes, fast cars, slow children at play, or dogs too ugly to live. If you tell them they are wearing blue shoes, and they hate blue shoes and insist, dammit, that those slides are PERIWINKLE, thank you, then you offended them... but that ain't your stressball to squeeze. Let 'em lose it. It's their coronary. If you toss someone a ball and they let it hit them, they either A) have no hands, B) have no coordination, or C) don't like balls coming at them. That reminds me of a Youth Group story, but we'll get into that after I perform the miracle of turning rum into water.

So let's imagine scenario A, they have no hands. You can clearly see they have no hands, what with their reluctance to shake hands, high-five, or offer a reach-around. You KNOW they are at a disadvantage, yet you throw it anyway, they take a restricted-flight to the collar bone, and BINGO, you're the a-hole at the office picnic. First of all, stop drinking at office picnics, even if your boss is pounding PBR, even if she's doing said pounding in your back seat where she's been since just after Happy Hour on Friday. Have some class, get a flask. Okay, so you bopped ol' Hooky, and frankly, it's your fault. It's pretty clear that you shouldn't have thrown a ball at a person with no hands. Apologize, then switch to soccer. Hope that Hooky didn't try and kick those fireworks way back when. Good on you.

Option B, they have no coordination. Maybe you knew, maybe you didn't. It's not totally your fault. You meant nothing by the toss, just to get them into the game because they were, after all, complaining that nobody ever tells them when Happy Hour's going down, especially after their conversation with the Boss lady. That lippy schidt's always a hen with a few pops in the bucket. So Wobbles the Intern has a welt (the uncoordinated always bruise easy, thanks to only eating hand foods, nothing with a fork and some iron, it's for their own safety), and the best you can do is apologize for your part in it, and maybe go 'em one better and offer your skills of retrieving balls, which reminds me of a story involving a corsage, a cumberbund (that's gay, in the non-gay-bashing way) and a can of Aquanet, but we'll save that for when you're sober. Gawd, you drink like a Kennedy.

Finally, C), they don't like to have balls thrown at them. Did you know? If so, then you're a prizzick for forcing a ball into their world, which reminds me of a spandex, but I digress. If You did not know that they detest ball-throwing activities and they get upset, hey, you didn't know and it's either their fault for being in the field of play, or it's their duty to get off the friggin' field, BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE FRIGGIN' BALLS GET TOSSED. It's called Empowerment, taking care of one's own feelings, needs, or withdrawals with conscious decision-making. If they are upset that a ball came at them, cripes, think of how people feel when bombs, motorcycles, or ugly cookie-saleskids come at them. You probably didn't know they were anti-catch, and they probably resent you for being the kind of person who goes around tossing balls. Which reminds me of almost every middle manager I've ever met, but this is going on forever.

In summary, if you ever get offended, you have to come to a conclusion: Did they intend to offend you, or are you easily offended? Only you know for sure. The world is full of offensive images, words, and bosses. It's up to each of us to pick our battles, thicken our skin, and fill our flasks. And for crying out loud, watch your balls.


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