Posted on October 31, 2018
by Steve Janowick

You’re pissed.  Instead of doing the right thing and adhering to convenience store etiquette that every human should know, Andy Asshole decides to jump from the very back of the line to the register that just opened up-even though you were next and waiting.  And he even has the gall to throw you a “what are you gonna do about it” smirk as he’s being rung up. You’re seeing red, but you’ve had a long day and, frankly, you’re mentally exhausted and just not in the mood to fight. So, you take a couple of breaths and talk yourself down.

But, as you’re driving home you start re-playing the incident in your head.  And in doing so, your heart begins to race, and your temples heat up. Regret starts to set in now.  Why didn’t I roundhouse that prick? You ask yourself in your head. You see his cocky, shit-eating, grin mocking you-taunting you.

You kick like a girl,” he laughingly says to you.

Your adrenaline and anger are really cranked up now.  You take the bottle of Pepsi in your hand and, with the speed of a coiled cobra, smash it over his head.  He drops to the floor screaming in pain. Pepsi spraying everywhere. The other patrons cheering loudly. Oh, but you’re not finished.  Far from it! You take the jagged piece of the bottle that’s still in your hand, drop to one knee and jam it, multiple times, into his jugular. You and the other patrons stand around him in a circle, pointing and laughing hysterically as he squirms around, gurgling, the blood shooting from his neck like a geyser.

Suddenly, you’re startled by two blinding headlights and a shrieking horn coming right at you.  You swerve to avoid a head-on collision, then shake your brain to clear it. A few deep breaths then your lips form a slender grin.  You feel better now.

From Gotti to Ghandi, and every type of man in between, we all have, within us, the dark place.  The brain is where the anger, rage, grief, regret, guilt and all the other negative emotions manifest and live.  But there’s a secret place. A place in the bowels of our soul where all those dark emotions can yield corresponding violent actions if left unchecked.

Thankfully, there’s a gatekeeper guarding the door to this place, not allowing any of those violent actions to actually get out. This gatekeeper dude is tough as shit and would seriously give Jon “Bones” Jones a run for his money.  His name is ‘impulse control’. He’s put to the test every single day and, in most of us, he’s undefeated with a perfect record. But every now and again, in some of us, he gets his ass kicked by this other tough-ass, bully on the block called ‘mental illness’.  And when he wins, all hell breaks loose.

But even he can be defeated by proper diagnosis and treatment, and thankfully, for most of us, keeping the dark place vacant and dormant is easy.  But, what the hell? We may let ourselves visit there every now and again, have a little fun and fantasize. Say, after some douche bag cuts in front of us in a convenience store.

Would you like to sponsor a CMX post like this one? If so fill out this simple form to let us know you're interested and we will get in touch!

Get Your Dose of Machismo

Subscribe and receive musings from one bad-ass to another. You won't regret it.