Friday, June 19, 2009

Bad Boy

I live a reasonably ethical life; I don’t steal; I hardly ever lie (and never to hurt anyone, only to protect myself); I’m pleasant to strangers (except when they’re in automobiles trying to run me over); I pay my taxes, eat my vegetables, mow my lawn, and in general, follow most of the rules society has laid down for upstanding citizenry; when people think of me, I imagine I’m conceived of as a pretty nice guy, a good neighbor, and probably something of a role model for environmentally-sensitive, socially-responsible members of an urban community in the 21st century.


Maybe it’s a result of sleeping in a tent for a couple of nights; perhaps it’s the authentic sense of summer starting to creep in; or it could just be that I’m feeling my middle-aged oats, but I woke up this morning with an urge to break out of the tidy little life I lead and raise hell of the sort typically frowned on around here, especially by me.

Like I could see myself in a convertible Hummer driving away from the steakhouse I’d just had a huge meal at; I’m on my way to a Nascar event and I’m blaring buttrock from the cars huge stereo system. I’m rich beyond all measure because I’ve masterminded a 7 billion dollar Ponzi scheme in which I’ve fleeced thousands of investors of their life savings and I don’t care a whit because as far as I’m concerned they’re all greedy suckers who deserve to be taken.

I’ve left the water running at my house to water my huge lawn and later this evening, I will turn on all the lights in every room just because I can.

Okay, I’ve sort of gotten that out of my system; when I put it down in words, it doesn’t sound as appealing a I thought it would.

Maybe I just want to be a little bad; beer for lunch is a start.


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