{"id":452,"date":"2008-01-11T18:38:51","date_gmt":"2008-01-11T23:38:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=452"},"modified":"2008-01-14T21:06:33","modified_gmt":"2008-01-15T02:06:33","slug":"whack-jobs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=452","title":{"rendered":"Whack Jobs"},"content":{"rendered":"

photo-2-small.JPG<\/a> <\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026.you’ve got to ask yourself one question:
\n‘Do I feel lucky?\u2019 Well, do ya, punk?\u201d<\/p>\n

—Clint Eastwood in \u201cDirty Harry\u201d
\n____________________________________<\/p>\n

I go to the gym regularly. Five or six days a week, if I can fit it into the schedule. I\u2019ve been going to the same place for almost six years now. And gotten to know a few of the regulars. We chat. Talk sports. Kid each other.<\/p>\n

Doc (not his real name) is a regular, an older guy, a curmudgeon-type individual. We got to be half-decent friends. Doc grumbles a lot, but he knows a lot. He knew more than the gym staff about which exercises I should be doing. And taught me. He got me started jumping rope, an excellent cardiovascular exercise. I now jump rope for at least two minutes every workout session, which is a lot harder than it sounds. Try it sometime.<\/p>\n

Doc was a moody guy. Some days he\u2019d talk incessantly; the next day he\u2019d ignore you. I learned to not bother him when he was in one of his spells. But he always came around, and we chummed like good friends.<\/p>\n

Then, one day last fall, I did something that pissed him off. For the life of me, I don\u2019t know what I said or did. Something silly, probably, or thoughtless. But he gradually became more hostile and soon completely ignored me. Like I wasn\u2019t even there. Which was, if not fine, completely within his rights. We didn\u2019t have to be friends. But we did have to exist together at the gym.<\/p>\n

And so it went for about a month. Doc getting increasingly hostile. I tried to be laid back and polite when we absolutely had to interact. Politeness only seemed to make him madder and moodier. It got so we just flat out ignored each other.<\/p>\n

Both of us use the dry sauna after working out. Usually I was done first. I always left the heat turned on for him. If he was first, he left it turned on for me. Then he stopped leaving it turned on for me, even though he knew I was coming in to use it within fifteen minutes. Sometimes he even propped open the sauna door to make sure the sauna would be ice-cold by the time I got there. I became increasingly irritated, but didn\u2019t confront him.<\/p>\n

Then, around mid-November, one night he did it. Pulled a trigger he shouldn\u2019t have. Ten minutes before finishing my workout, I strolled into the locker room to turn on the sauna, knowing he had shut it off. He was just getting out of the shower. The sauna door was standing wide open. I walked in, shut it, turned on the heat and politely asked him not to touch the controls. He mumbled defiantly.<\/p>\n

Ten minutes later, after finishing my workout, I returned. He stood before the mirror at the sink, combing his long stringy hair. The sauna door stood propped wide open again, the heat turned off. <\/p>\n

At this point, I suppose, I should have paused and considered, \u201cWhat would Jesus do?\u201d Sadly, I did not. Besides, I don\u2019t know what He would have done. But I can tell you what I did. <\/p>\n

Without a word, I turned and went back out to the gym and got Rick, the attendant and we walked into the locker room. I was fuming. I showed Rick the open sauna door and told him what had just happened. That this man had deliberately opened it and turned off the heat after I\u2019d asked him not to just ten minutes ago.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat man, standing right there at the sink, did it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Doc finally turned, stunned that I had actually fetched Rick and was confronting him. He began yelling loudly. Rick, poor guy, was frantic that we would come to blows. He tried to soothe us, to defuse the escalating situation.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc, you\u2019re a !#%^*!# (bleep),\u201d I said. I was amazed at my voice. From inside, it felt barely controlled. It came out flat and calm. Doc instantly started swearing back at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a !#%^*!# (bleep). That\u2019s all you are.\u201d I said again, firmly.<\/p>\n

Doc went off on a two-minute tirade about how I couldn\u2019t boss him around. \u201cI\u2019ll sit in that sauna all evening, from 5 PM until 8 PM, just so you can\u2019t use it. What you gonna do then?\u201d he yelled, somewhat irrationally, since he would shrivel like a prune if he did that. I waited until he stopped to catch his breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a !#%^*!# (bleep).\u201d I said flatly, for the third and final time. <\/p>\n

By now, he\u2019d gathered his stuff and walked out, yelling that this gym wasn\u2019t big enough for us both. Rick bounced about like an excited rubber ball. Then Doc was gone. All was quiet. I was fuming, so furious that I shook. Then, from one of the toilet stalls came a polite cough, and the sound of a flushing toilet. Some poor guy had been sitting on the pot the whole time and heard it all come down less than ten feet away. <\/p>\n

Still fuming, I talked with Rick for a few minutes, then sat in the slowly-warming sauna to calm down. As I left, I apologized to Rick for all the fuss. But I was still steaming mad.<\/p>\n

In the next few days, I thought a lot about the whole episode. I had never, in my memory, done anything remotely like that. At least not while sober. I felt a bit bad for swearing, mostly that others had heard me. Doc and I both claimed to be Christians. We\u2019d often discussed our beliefs and the Scriptures in general. But there we\u2019d been, heatedly swearing at each other like two drunken sailors. Any way you look at it, something about that seems a little screwy.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t see Doc again for about a week. On a Saturday, as I was leaving, he\u2019d just started his exercise routine. Against all my will, and only because that was the way I\u2019ve been trained all my life, I walked up to him and apologized for swearing. He was surprised. But we stood there and talked calmly for a few minutes. I told him that we could have disagreements. That was OK. But I regretted the swearing. That was wrong. He then apologized for what he\u2019d said. Not that I\u2019d expected it.<\/p>\n

Strangely, as I walked away, and for weeks later, I was irritated at myself for having apologized. Seemed like such a trite, formulaic thing to do. So pat. I apologize. You apologize. Now we all sing happy songs and get along. Except we don’t. <\/p>\n

Since that Saturday, Doc has avoided me like the plague. But he doesn\u2019t prop open the sauna door anymore, or turn off the heat after I\u2019ve turned it on. I guess one could say we’ve “reached an understanding.”<\/p>\n

In my next counseling session, I ran the whole thing by my counselor, sparing no details, including the exact swear words. But, I insisted, I called Doc exactly what he was. To my surprise, the counselor seemed little concerned with my reaction or the whole episode, really. <\/p>\n

\u201cIt shows that you are alive,\u201d he said. \u201cAfter all that\u2019s happened to you this year, that\u2019s a good thing. Not that you swore. But that you\u2019re alive. And reacted like you are alive. Bristled a little.\u201d <\/p>\n

His analysis made sense. Seemed valid. About having life, and not being a doormat. Not that I plan to walk around swearing at people or anything. Unless you really work at irritating me. Then I might.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not quite the same person I was when I posted my first blog back in April of last year, and throughout last summer. I\u2019ve been a fairly passive, easy-going guy for most of my life. Probably still am, mostly. Except for a few small changes. <\/p>\n

Now, if you bray incessantly at me, or launch poisonous life-draining arrows at me, I will shut you off. And cut you off. From my life. And my site. Just like that. Which is no big deal, not a huge important event, one way or the other, in the big scheme of things. But it\u2019s important to me in that it affects how I choose to live. And I will do it. <\/p>\n

I\u2019m done with all the sly, sneering, caustic drivel disguised as \u201copen inquiry\u201d when it\u2019s really just manipulative BS from small-minded people who have actually become what they claim to loathe. And have developed an elaborate art form of tearing others down. I\u2019m done with all the crap about fulfilling others\u2019 expectations about who and what I should be. And what attitudes, from hateful to barely tolerant, I\u2019m supposed to harbor for the culture from which I have emerged. I deeply respect that culture and always will. <\/p>\n

I\u2019m done with all the condescending blather, all the subtle mind games, about what I should or shouldn\u2019t write, and how it\u2019s written. I\u2019ll make those choices. Some may be wrong. Inevitably, some will be. I\u2019ll live with that. And learn from that. Because the choices I make, right or wrong, will be my own and not the result of trying to appease the cynical disdain and colossal ego of some bitter, washed-up armchair critic who can dish it out by the pound but can\u2019t take it by the ounce. And who couldn\u2019t get 35,000 hits on a personal blog site from now until the next century.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s negative, draining noise. It\u2019s just bluster. And it\u2019s just bullying. I reject it. I rebuke it. And it\u2019s gonna stop. It in fact already has. Because I\u2019ve shut it down. As of about 10:45 PM last Saturday night, with the help of my “nephew network.” (Thanks, guys, with special thanks to Howard.) It really is like killing swarming rats trapped in a barrel. Just easier; point, click and delete. I don’t touch the vermin. Or read it. As do none of you. And you won’t. Not on this site.<\/p>\n

I write what I want, about whatever catches my muse that week. I appreciate all readers. I try to respect my audience. To be honest. Not talk down to you. Or preach. You are welcome to agree with what I say. Or disagree. Or have no opinions what-soever either way. You may be horrified that I swore at a guy at the gym. You are welcome to post a comment stating that. Agree or disagree, or call me stupid or silly. Or wicked, even. As long as you respect the person you are addressing. If you don\u2019t, you won\u2019t participate. As some of you won\u2019t, because you can\u2019t. And that\u2019s how it is.<\/p>\n

How\u2019s that for some bristling? I think my counselor might approve. If not, he\u2019s got some work to do.
\n________________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n

A few words to Buckeye fans. You\u2019re good people, most of you. Salt of the earth, and all that. Great to hang with. And that string-cut potato salad you make, it\u2019s the best in the world. You\u2019re always welcome at any of my cookouts simply on the quality of your potato salad alone.<\/p>\n

But your football team. Ahem. This is a bit awkward. Two years now. In a row. Blown out. In the Championship Game. Maybe it\u2019s time you gave it a rest for a year or two. Regroup a little. Let Michigan, or even Iowa, have a shot. I\u2019m just saying, is all. I was going to watch the entire game, but was so embarrassed for the Big Ten that I went to bed early in the third quarter. Score at that time: 31-10 LSU.<\/p>\n

It was too much to expect, I suppose. That the Dems of the “Live Free or Die” state would have enough sense to rise up and drive a stake through the heart of the Wicked Witch’s campaign. Nah. Would’a simplified things too much, to do that. Now we’ll be inflicted with her screeching for another few months, or heaven forbid, the entire Presidential Race. New Hampshire Dems should just adopt a new slogan, “Enslave me ’til I die.”<\/p>\n

Republicans there didn’t show much more sense, giving McCain the win. McCain is a sleazeball, and I won’t soon forget his gratuitous demonization of my Alma Mater, Bob Jones Univeristy, in the 2000 campaign. Or that he placed restrictions on the most valuable of expressions, political speech, in his unconstitutional and soon to be over-turned McCain-Feingold Act.<\/p>\n

YOU ARE WELCOME TO POST A COMMENT ON THE LINK ON THIS PAGE ONLY.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201c\u2026.you’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?\u2019 Well, do ya, punk?\u201d —Clint Eastwood in \u201cDirty Harry\u201d ____________________________________ I go to the gym regularly. Five or six days a week, if I can fit it into the schedule. I\u2019ve been going to the same place for almost six years now. And gotten […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-452","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/452","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=452"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/452\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=452"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=452"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=452"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}