When Patience Runs Out

It is said that animals are most dangerous when wounded. This animal – me – was recently wounded by the unexpected death of my sister. I am in a take no prisoners mood, particularly with a few people whose shit treatment of me I have, until this morning, let slide. Life and its attending challenges are tough enough without having to deal with self-absorbed, no conscience wimps, who profess to all the world they are caring, loving people. Perhaps it was the likes of these folk that led to the term lip-service. 

An old friend of mine once told me I was too patient with people. This may be true. That said, when someone with a lot of patience runs out of patience, the result is not pretty. Nor should it be. This morning I fired off a few emails ripping into a few of the above referenced individuals. While I took no pleasure in writing them, I don’t regret a single word, not even a syllable. 

Ex-Wives and Little Boy Biffy

It has been a very, very long time since I have inflicted violence on anyone. However, there are times when people behave in such a way that I am inclined to think giving them a good hard crack upside their heads may, in fact, be the best move. The truth is I would not inflict violence on anyone anymore unless, of course, I was defending my life or someone else’s life; but it is, I am not embarrassed to admit, somewhat enjoyable to contemplate giving one or two people a good smack.

I recently wrote an e-mail to several people close to my ex-wife to see how she was doing. She is dealing with a rather formidable medical challenge and although it has been well over a decade since we have even seen each other, my concern and worry for her runs deep and true.

Having said that, there are a few in her, well, camp, if you will, that don’t know how to let go of the past and one, in particular, we will call him Little Boy Biffy, wrote back a pretty nasty e-mail to me. I can understand that because my e-mail inquiring about her health was certainly brutal. It read, and I quote:

Dear All,

Could someone please let me know how Paula is doing? We’d exchanged a few e-mails late last year and I last heard from her on Jan. 3. I am so deeply worried.

My prayers and best wishes and love are with her and with all of you.


Pretty rough language on my part, come to think of it. Then of course, Little Boy Biffy writes back something nasty to me which will go unquoted. Suffice it to say I invited him over in case Little Boy Biffy would like to, well, you know, tell me in person. I’d even make him a cup of coffee. I actually would. More often than not, tough guy bravado vanishes when face to face with someone, and perhaps Little Boy Biffy might learn a bit about me, and of course, I could learn about him.

But I’m not expecting any visitors. Cowards don’t respond well to invitations.



Coming back to life one day at a time; that is my lot these days and I am quite pleased with it. Starting somewhere in late 2006, early 2007, if memory serves, I’ve been taking a bit of a pummeling from certain quarters, culminating in a set of circumstances that sent me plunging into the depths of depression for quite some time now.

I think things are beginning to change. In the last month or two I’ve been betrayed by few folks, two in particular: one was a surprise, one was not. The thing is, these acts really angered me, in large part because both people knew they were kicking me when I was already down. Only cowards do that.

Like all of you, I’ve met some cowards in my time. Not too long ago I had a guy make up all kinds of, well, crap about me, but he never had the courage to tell me too my face, or address things in person. Another coward. Then, recently, the two just referenced. Who are they? I will never name them. Why? Because their names aren’t worth the expenditure of ink. Frankly, it would be an insult to the ink.

This morning I went for a walk, a rarity for me these days given that getting out of the house is not easy. But during the walk I remembered reading about leopards when I was a boy. I remember reading that they are most dangerous when wounded, that they will fight to the death.

I have a lot of respect for leopards.