The Pubic Eye

printed 06/18/2021

I am not, by the way, anti-cop, nor am I racist, and I operate according to the belief that people can be or do whatever they want as long as they don’t do it to me.

Or do it to others who can’t stand up for themselves.

It’s a character flaw that’s gotten me into big trouble over the years: a long time ago, a galoot of a guy on the other side of a crowded club insulted a woman sitting at a table near him just because he could, and here I am standing up when I should have shut up.

It was, as they say, the old alligator mouth overloading the hummingbird rear-end scenario.

“What did you say, you ********?” I yelled over the heads of a hundred other people.

At least that’s what I heard coming out of my mouth, while my mind was advising me to run for my car and get out of Dodge before this character curled me around one of his big fat hairy knuckles and compressed me into a shot glass.

He was, in terms of scale, a full-course meal to my side salad, and yet, the big mouth gene clouded my thinking.

The only thing that saved me was so many people were in the room that the galoot couldn’t tell exactly who said what and therefore settled down just in case the voice belonged to an even bigger someone who was looking to perform a little shot-glass compression trick of his own.

Writing editorials doesn’t offer that kind of cover, unfortunately. You say what’s on your mind and suffer the consequences.

On the editorial next door, for instance, I’m fairly certain everyone will find something they don’t like. Some members of the police department won’t care for it because I am critical, and the people who see racism in the actions of local police won’t like it because I disagree with them as well.

You might say, in fact, that I have stayed the course of rarely agreeing with anyone, because taking things at face value is like reading the dust jacket and presuming you know what’s in the book. We’ve seen a lot of that in recent years.

By now, you’re probably wondering if I ever had the you-know-what beaten out of me because I didn’t shut up.

The answer is my head ended up sporting more knots than a crocheted circus tent after one episode. I would have had more of them, too, had not the police arrived to break up that brawl.

You gotta love them, when they’re right.

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