What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?

There are various historical instances of a righteous man dispensing violence to someone who really had it coming. I wish I could’ve been there to applaud on May 22, 1856, when Senator Preston Brooks (SC) gave his colleague Charles Sumner (MA) a good caning on the floor of the chamber. However, in my personal life, violence is something I do my best to avoid.

The last time I got in a “I’ll fuckin’ kill you” sort of fight was decades ago. One can enter into a mental tunnel attack mode, which isn’t useful once the incident is over. I was 18 years old living in a barracks and these things can happen. Our corporal rushed in to break it up, and that was it.

A woman can take one look at another woman, decide she doesn’t like her and harbor this enmity for life. With young men, steam gets blown off and then tomorrow is another day. They’ll just exchange some blows and get back on the job, and sometimes laugh it off later.

This is why young men require structure and male authority figures. Prisons are packed with the sons of single mothers. An authority figure needs to be there to smack them over the head and give a “this is what happens when horsin‘ around goes too far” speech. Sounds like a banned political philosophy…

My counterparty was a malignant narcissist who didn’t comprehend the concept of treating others the way you’d like to be treated. This pisses people off. I wasn’t the only one, but it also didn’t help that I was a shit talker who’d make fun of his emotional frailty. Despite his muscles and good looks, somehow, he was highly insecure. Still, this is what men do to pass the time in these situations but the laughs I’d generate probably got to him.

I think what finally did it is that he was required to do some punishment exercises that I wasn’t. Later he complained, and I replied that it was “probably because you’re such a f****t“. In all fairness to him, back in the day this was a fighting word. He’d brought in a chunk of ice from outside to bludgeon me with, but he was so angry he just chucked it at me, which made the floor he was rushing across rather slippery. He went down, I smelled blood in the water and dove in.

He almost managed to smash my face into a bed frame. Guys lose teeth over really stupid things. I’m lucky I’ve still got mine. There’re all kinds of good reasons to fight, but most of the stuff young guys get into they’d realize later wasn’t worth it at all, especially if they’d been drinking. This guy? I’m one of the few who could still get along with him because I understand the psychology. If you’re reasonable most of the time with these guys, it’s about them so don’t take it personally. Don’t take the bait.

When I was doing business in Asia, the cops there basically didn’t care about White-on-White crime. They didn’t view it as falling under their purview. Therefore, if two foreign guys decided to beat the shit out of each other in front of a bar, their own sense of restraint might be the only thing to stop them. Most situations are easy to diffuse before a punch gets thrown, but I mind my own business unless somebody I know is involved. Somebody who gets in bar fights is generally not someone with whom I’d be socializing, but international projects bring all sorts together.

One time, it was late in the evening and I’d been chatting with a brick shithouse Russian who was a former paratrooper. A French engineer earlier in the night had inquired as to my nationality, and replied in his annoying accent “oh, I amm sorry fur youuu“. Whatever, bro. That’s me. He did this same thing to Nikita Koloff but also rubbed his face, which provoked the Ruskie to leap up in an instant rage. I just stood back for that one, but somebody else managed to mollify the situation.

When I’m in my hometown I don’t even bother going to the area with bars. For one thing, you could catch a stray round. This happened to a young woman’s brain. Two, I can’t stand being blasted with contemporary music. Three, beer is much cheaper out of my fridge. Four, there are lots of black people where I live. They can turn this area into a Southern version of Mos Eisley spaceport at night.

In my younger years, we went out on the town and parked in a garage. Three people were gunned down in this garage the following evening. Hell, I don’t even let the sun go down on me at Walmart. We just can’t have nice things, so my advice to our younger guys is to have their fun in a secure environment. Public places in America often aren’t anymore, especially as the evening wears on. Google “Ihop fight” before you decide to get a late-night meal. We have black people, so that precludes nice things. We can’t even have a navigable interstate if they get riled up.

Unfortunately, most of us are stuck interacting with black people. However, there’s no reason this interaction should involve recreation. You still can and should segregate yourself when it comes to these activities. When you don’t, you can find yourself placed into defensive situations which will lead to your prosecution and conviction.

Before a night on the town a very long time ago, a grizzled redneck once inquired what we’d like on our tombstones. “Died in [racial slur]ville… killed in [racial slur]town?” I’ve come to appreciate the wisdom of his sentiments. Even though he’d threatened to kill me on numerous occasions, often in very graphic detail, we’d have been taking on much less risk spending the evening with him in the middle of nowhere rather than carousing with women in a trendy area on the edge of what could be fairly described as an urban warzone.

I totally get it, young guys don’t want to sit at home on a weekend. However, please be careful where you go because urban America ain’t safe anymore. It’s dangerous enough just pumping your gas.