Terrible Trouble! The Barber and Pizza Place

I saw the basics of this incident with my own two eyes. But I didn't really know it was in process till I'd noticed the guy walk by three times. I was sitting on a bench uptown. By the third time the guy walked by me I looked up from my phone and started paying attention. Then I was able to piece together the previous three trips in the context of the incident.*

The guy is a guy about town, someone that if you live here you see all the time. He doesn't seem to have a ton of friends -- never a companion -- but everyone, especially businessmen, know him. He's uptown a lot, and must check in a lot with merchants. This time he was going back and forth between the pizza place and the barber shop.

He started out at the barber shop and went to get a pizza for the barber, which he delivered. But there was some problem, so he went back to the pizza place with a dollar, then back to the barber. Soon he returned to the pizza place to get a handful of napkins, then to the barber. Then he returned to the pizza place for a little container of cheese, then back. Then he returned to the pizza place for some red peppers, then back.

By now, with yet another trip, the pizza place thought maybe there was a problem. He explained that the barber was certain the pizza was supposed to have been $7, but it turned out to be $8. The extra trips back were the barber's way of recouping his dollar.

So the pizza man sent him back to the barber with a message, that the pizza was indeed $8, not $7, because extra cheese is a dollar more. The barber sent him back with a message that he hadn't asked for extra cheese, the usual amount of cheese being all he wanted. The pizza man sent back a message that naturally he wouldn't have known that. He put one little knife in the barber's back: People rarely go to the barber, and then it's always the same ones. If the barber remembers what his customers want, that's no surprise. But so many people go the pizza place, many different ones, one order's the same as any other.

Obviously this kind of nasty comment didn't sit well with the barber. Especially since their commerce is only one way, the barber ordering pizzas but the pizza guy never getting a haircut. (I'm sure I would've have a hard time holding my tongue, too.) He sent the guy back to the pizza place with a message: "Your pizza sucks anyway, whether it's $7 or $8." The pizza guy sent him back with a message in return: "Why do you think I never come in for a haircut? The looks of your haircuts aren't the greatest." Their go-between man was Exhibit A, whose head and whole manner look totally bad; he's just a guy with bad hair.

It escalated from there. The barber complained that the pizzas were often dry like cardboard, and in addition, the occasional sandwiches he'd ordered were tasteless and skimpy on meat and hefty on lettuce. The pizza guy sent a message back that haircuts in general are very boring, and that this particular barber's haircuts were the most boring. Plus, and here he was unfair, the barber's toilet paper budget must be through the roof, just to patch up nicks from shoddy shaving practices.

By now the guy had gone back and forth -- I lost track -- maybe 18-20 times. As an emissary delivering messages, he did a fine job. But in my opinion it would've be more helpful to smooth out some of the rough edges of the messages they entrusted to him.

Finally, the pizza guy thought, "The barber actually is a pretty good customer. And we've been here all these years, on friendly terms." The barber, to his credit, also thought it over, "If I don't fix this, I won't be able to order pizzas again, which means I'll either starve or have to order from someone farther away."

The barber sent the guy back to the pizza guy with a friendly word, then to smile and ask about the extra cheese thing. But before asking about the cheese, the guy admitted ordering extra cheese, not to cause trouble, but that's the way he personally orders pizza, so it had slipped his mind, causing the extra dollar charge for the barber.

Of course there's a happy ending, as seen in the picture. The pizza guy kicked the guy out once and for all, then made up with the barber, returning his dollar, who immediately went to the register and gave the pizza guy 50 cents. They both agreed that they had been good neighbors far too long to let this guy screw them up now.

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* An interesting moment for me, when I go from basic ignorance to omniscience

Everyone Who Disagrees With Me Dies

Everyone who disagrees with me dies, eventually.

You might not be able to tell it from my blog day to day, but I'm a very opinionated person. Another way to say it, I'm a factually-oriented person, since my opinions demonstrate no variance from fact, at least none I can discern.

In addition to being opinionated, my other super power is rage. Manifest most often when anything -- animate or inanimate -- goes against me or disappoints me in any way. You will find me in those moments spinning powerfully in the center of existence, wreaking havoc on everyone, from out and out enemies to good friends who simply misunderstood the question.

I remember one debate, a terrible one, several years ago. I remember it clearly, the issue being on the nature of the Sabbath, whether we should keep it, and, if so, what the nature of keeping it should be. Important stuff. Looking back on it now, having mostly put it out of my mind and being calmed down, I probably could've been calmer at the time. But those were the days before all the "Be Calm" signs, when we had to do tough mental tricks to remember.

It was me and some other guy -- named Burns -- whom, in the muddled consciousness I have when rage hits, I cursed and he dropped dead. His funeral was a few days later and every eye was on me as I entered the church. No one wanted anything to do with me, until one kindly woman in the front row defied the whole lot of them by getting up and walking slowly toward me at the back. She welcomed me. Her example won no converts, but at least I had someone to talk to at the luncheon.

It was that incident that clarified for me the penalty to be exacted when anyone disagrees with me. And I've never forgotten it. It's the basis of my absolute certainty to this day that death is the consequence, and if anyone has a different opinion on it ... make sure your life insurance is paid up.

To a certain extent, though, this has posed a problem for me personally.

Bear with me. Because if I have an opinion, another word for fact, and read something in a book that contradicts it, giving better arguments than I have, does the author die? Or if somehow the new information changes my opinion, does that mean I will die? I've resolved the last question pretty well. My opinions never came to me out of whole cloth but evolved. Therefore, supplemental information only refines my thought. And in the case of it reversing my previous opinion, I look at it as two sides of the same coin.

OK, I know what your argument would be to that, if you were brave enough to argue. Why do I allow this evolution for myself with books -- even to the point of using the "two sides of the same coin" justification -- but don't allow it if living people tell me? I think it's a good question, which I can't answer fully. But naturally any answer I give, this last answer for example, has to satisfy you. Or you'd be contradicting me and would die.

In the case of the authors, there's so many of them that are already dead, I've just more or less given a pass to the others. I can't be running around Googling every author to find out which ones aren't dead. Which might be a lesson for them, that eventually they'll get theirs. It's dangerous to be an author, thinking again of all the dead ones. Who'd they mess with? An author spreads disagreement widely. It'd be best to lock himself in a room, type his opinions and throw them away. Maybe not fulfilling to the ego, but at least he could survive.

Of course I welcome comments to each of my blog posts. This one included. Please, though -- I'll repeat that, PLEASE -- be careful what you say. The slightest disagreement will be met with rage. That's one thing, and it's temporary. But death will follow, which is permanent. No, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or even next year. You might live a good 70-80 years, I don't know. But eventually, whether a day, a week, or a century, mark my words, you'll get yours!

They Say I Can't Be Serious

OK, timeout, I've been taken to task, ho hum. Called on the carpet, as they say. Which is tiresome, to say the least. Leaving me a little -- what? -- mentally drained, somewhat confused... I seriously can't describe the full extent of my feelings. It's like being hit in the gut, like having the wind knocked out of you. You think, Wow, I've been doing my level best; that ought to be beyond dispute, but, no, naturally there has to be someone, certain ones, who sees it differently.

What's it all about? I'm not too sure it matters that much what it's all about. The pure fact of the matter is, It shouldn't even be an issue. I've always been a 'Live and let live' guy -- if people are putting forth an effort, you know, judge them on their merits. None of this cheap shot stuff. I'm trying my best to refrain from cussing, you can probably tell. Just to prove it, I easily could've reeled off a half dozen swear words just in the course of these two paragraphs. Believe it, it's buildt up inside. I'm at the boiling point, although I'm trying really hard to keep it ... cooool. Chill out, this too shall pass. Some people aren't worth bothering over. Tell yourself, It wasn't meant as something bad. Although it no doubt was.

I will do my best to offer up a refutation, for what it's worth ... call it therapeutic. I learned this as a kid, something called the old 'Count to 10' method. You breathe and you count, you count and you breathe. Breath in, 1, Breath out, 2, etc. I recommend it to anyone in similar circumstances. You know, the fist you save might be your own! Putting it through a wall, or flattening it against a brick obstruction, none of that's any fun. True, while the fever's hot, it doesn't hurt. But just wait, pretty soon you'll be cooled off and it'll hurt like hell. Then you have to go to the doctor and get it X-rayed. Their first question is always, "What happened?" And you're a little ashamed to say. Tripped over a pop can.

Anyway, let's leave the self-help advice till later. What do you mean, I can't be serious? That's a statement, a criticism you can take two ways: 1) You can't be serious, in that you're flippant. But that's not it; 2) It was more like this, You were trying to make a serious point, but I judge it as so ridiculous -- your thinking -- that I have to say, You can't be serious ... I both condemn your point of view, and I condemn you. OK, so that's how it is, you sad sack of ... equestrian dung. That's what I think of you! How you like them beans? Doesn't feel so good now, does it?

Disagreement is one thing, but out and out condemnation -- without allowing me the chance to respond and present my case, that's something that ought to be out of bounds. I'm sure it is out of bounds, usually, like at the level of intelligent society, like at the United Nations. One country might hate another country's guts, but at the round table everyone's good friends. They keep the condemnation on the up and up. It's not a knife in the back. You're among peers with some standards of decency, not just cutthroats. Really, though, for the rest of us, apparently that's too much to expect... Bombs away!

Well, here's the truth: Opinions are strong on these issues whatever point of view you take. I accept that. Naturally, I have my own opinions, strong opinions, and simply felt the time was right to state them without the fear of judgment. I'm not completely reticent. Forgive me, I didn't know that was the unforgivable sin. Know what I mean? I'm looking to you for a little bit of fairness, that kind of common levelheadedness Do unto others thing that, I thought, marked good society. If we then differ, so be it, but let's differ in a respectful way. Not with the kind of ignorance that was displayed, more akin to large sacks of male bovine droppings than rational discourse.

I like the graphic above, which sums it up. It makes my case perfectly, worth a thousand words. We have a building, a large room. But behind it all you have all the scaffolding, the structural design, the materials, etc., and the ability of well-trained men to put the pieces into place. They're working together. They finish their task, leaving the building (or the room) for the purposes behind its ultimate design. And what I see is a bright inner sanctum behind those doors, from which can come even greater purposes, the purposes of the mind.

On the other hand -- and I hope we're mostly in agreement on this -- if we give way to endless quibbling and gainsaying, the terrible prattle of the mindless; if that is to be the order of the day, then of course all bets are off. As for myself, I believe I've done everything I can to rise to the occasion. I'm a decent guy. Can the same thing be said for those who would naysay?

I realize there are those who try to set it up so they can't lose. But at what human cost? How appropriate is that? Good luck in the long run! You think you can arrange it so I can't win? Permanently?! Think again! If that's what you're thinking -- and if that's the way you want it -- I need to warn you, Your day of comeuppance is right around the corner! Because the honest-to-God truth is, I know that not everyone agrees with you, whether or not they're presently willing to stand up and say so. That's the truth. Which I know you'll find hard to believe.

But, please, look within yourself. If you do, you won't believe for a second that I'm saying this simply out of my own imagination. I know how that goes, A guy is sensitive, naturally he lashes out without regard for truth, looking out for his own wounded feelings. I assure you, it's not that way with me. My gaze is undiminished. For me, this isn't "Rally 'round the flag" time! But can you say the same? If you're answer is yes, to me, that's porcine excrement, heaped up and rolling down.

I'm going to say this sloooooowly: So listen up, you mindless individual serving of Number 2: This isn't merely a matter of pride on my part. Pride? What do I care about pride? Pride is false. Glory? There's no glory worth having, as the sages say. Who, incidentally, then end up with the greatest glory man can give, which they in turn disdain, as I do now. Am I calling myself a sage? Sages have sagacity, that is, wisdom. I guess I do have something natural in that regard. But even a kicked animal could say the same, if it's kicked enough... Pathetic...