Small man, big mouth

Why is it so many of the hardcore songs I listened to in my youth have come true? From Guilty of being white by Minor Threat to Los Angeles is burning by Bad Religion, it's safe to say hardcore music is prophetic. So many spoke for so long about the direction we were headed. And now we're here. Rollins. Social Distortion. Face to Face. Samiam. Fugazi. The Descendents. If they had anything at all to say about society, it is seen as prophetic now. I could spend years just writing about this. We slid farther down the rabbit hole than I ever imagined. But I'm digressing already.

The hardcore anthem Small man, big mouth by Minor Threat talks about a specific type of man. You know the type. He's small but he walks with his chest out, shooting his mouth off at every chance. He wears shirts that say things like, "It's not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog." He's abrasive and looking for a fight. He has something to prove. A chip on his shoulder. 

Recently, as I was running at the track (I normally run or hike elsewhere), a little kid, probably 10 years old, started heckling me. Hard. At first, all I heard was noise. I was in my own little world, as I'm apt to be when running. But then I looked at him, and he was heckling me. He started the first time around and kept up the whole time. Finally, as he was leaving (and still heckling), his mom or sister or some adult who should have probably said something before then, screamed, "Oh, I'm so sorry ... I don't know why he's doing that." He's doing that because he is a small man with a big mouth. And I was about half a second away from running my middle-aged, curmudgeonly ass over there and giving him what-for. He's gonna be lucky to make it to the ripe old age of 42 and still be as active as me, especially with a mouth like that. He may not make it to my hoary age if he keeps that crap up. I'm certainly not above beating a 10-year-old's butt. I imagine other people who endure that kind of verbal abuse feel the same way.

My immediate thought was, "Oh, man, I don't want my son to grow up in this small-minded small town. I need to move." But, the truth is, those kids are everywhere. Still, small towns seem to breed them more than anywhere else. Someone who used to work at the school here in town once mentioned to me she saw the worst case of bullying at this school she had ever seen and nothing was done about it. It was reported in the paper, but nothing came of it. School board meetings brought it up. Parents had their say. The newspaper reporter eventually quit over the story because she had friends who worked at the school. I don't understand small towns. Or the small minds that run them. This is the kind of town where if you take a walk through town, you will probably trigger five calls to the police. Yes, you are just walking and minding your own business, but someone is going to see something different. Think I'm exaggerating? I read it in the sheriff's log all the time. We look the other way when there is bullying at the school, but we call the cops when you're out for a stroll. Makes sense.

In bygone years, I recall dealing with other kids like the one at the track. I put one of them on the floor after practice one day. Was it football practice? Must have been seventh grade, then. His name was Pat B. He was shooting off some nonsense. I was trying my best not to notice, tying my shoe or something, so was down low. Then I had enough. I put my fist between his legs, which surprised and disarmed him (because what the hell are you doing, man), then I wrapped my other arm around and grabbed my fist, lifting up at the same time really hard three times and then dropped him on the floor. If his little nuts had dropped by then, they would have been squashed. I didn't check. He didn't shoot off his mouth at me anymore after that.

My friend Geoff would always sound off like that, talking crap. One time I got sick of it. Proud people are sometimes sickening to be around. I slammed him up against a locker. I think he was just kinda like, "Huh." For the most part, I stayed away from physical altercations, as they don't tend to change behavior and only prove I'm an a-hole too. I learned that when I got into numberless fisticuffs with my brothers growing up. I'm pretty sure I've gotten whooped more than 99.9 percent of the population. I also remember in the third grade beating a kid with my metal lunchbox, but he jumped me, so he had it coming. And he took my lunchbox away. I had to beg for it back. Immediately after that, he took me for doughnuts and introduced me to his family. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. Maybe that's all those kids with big mouths want.

What has all of this taught me? Haha, I don't know. Do all of my stories have a point? It's safe to say this blog has become pointless. I can write whatever I please. My next post might be all the things I know about Elizabeth Turner (it will be short but will have lots of photos). Or how much I hate my job (it will be long). Or how much catnip tea I've been drinking lately (great for sleeping!). Or how I have to buy a new blanket every autumn (it's almost contractual). It will be useless reading, but it will fit right in here. Somewhere, someone is sitting on their commode, reading this, and laughing at my various stupidities. And that's good enough for me. 

Before I go, I should mention something else. One of the hardest things in the Christian faith (at least for me) is to pray for those who misuse and hurt us (because some people really just need to be punched in the throat). Is there anything wrong with defending yourself? Not in the world's eyes, no. And as Christians, we are free to do as we please. We aren't bound by any law. But some approaches are better, and that's what Jesus taught us. He told us to turn the other cheek, to seek the good in everything and everyone. That rules out fighting someone, clearly. We are told to pray for those who seek our hurt and give to them even more when they take from us. That's hard, but in doing so, we "heap coals of fire" on their heads, which doesn't sound very nice, but it is. 

In those days, when someone's hearth fire went out, they could go to their neighbor and ask for a few coals to restart their fire. Their neighbor would then put them in a clay pot or something which was carried on their head (if they carried it in front of them, they would inhale fumes) back to their hearth. In doing so, they did a great service in helping their neighbor rekindle their fire. By seeking good and not evil, we can help someone "rekindle their fire." In the past, I haven't always done the right thing, but life allows for a certain amount of adjustment. Certainly, I adjusted to a better way of living. Life is hard for all of us. I don't want to make anyone's life any harder than it has to be, and I don't think they should do that to me. If I have a chance to make someone's life better, I should probably do that.

Thanks for reading. Take care out there. Don't take any crap from 10-year-olds! 

Or, perhaps, pray for them. God bless. 

***

While this should really be a separate post, I'm going the lazy route and tacking a short note here instead. Today, I canceled my Netflix account. It was a long time coming but was hastened by their insistence on releasing the film Cuties (and disregarding hundreds of thousands of requests to scrap its release), which is clear fodder for pedophiles. Much of Netflix's content is agenda laden, but this is the worst I've seen. Normalizing the sexualization of children is morally wrong, and I will not be a party to it. I can write at length about this, but perhaps another time. 

What will I do for television watching? I don't really know. I investigated a few of the apps I already have, one of which is free (Tubi), though it has a lot of advertisements. It even has a lot of content for kids. At this point, it doesn't really matter. I just need to not support Netflix anymore. If they change course in the future (unlikely), I will reconsider. I can't pray against these very things and then support its dissemination with my hard-earned money. 

Thanks again for reading. God bless.