I Will Swat Flies And So Would Gandhi

 

WHAT CAME FIRST?

I’ve heard feverish arguments for both The Chicken and for The Egg. I’ve also heard that The Chicken was busy crossing the road and forgot where it left The Egg.

I don’t know. It is 6:18 in the morning. It is still dark outside – much too early for any Philosophical Questions. Even The Chicken and The Egg thing is too demanding. At this hour my brain can barely handle basic body functions: Heartbeat, Vision, Bladder. After that it is Hit and Miss until my coffee kicks in and that could be anytime between 7 AM and 7 PM. Before or after that I am not a responsible human being. Some people have argued that 7 to 7 isn’t all that great for me either.

Nobody ever asks me for my opinion on Great Matters Philosophical, Political, or Financial – and I’m not upset about that mind you. It saves me a lot of stomach acid and feeling the need to slap faces as I scream, “Shut up and pay attention, you half-witted Ninny!”

I try to be gentle.

I don’t like yelling at people. They really don’t listen and it makes my blood pressure go up into Hummingbird territory. Why should I subject myself to such aggravation? I find it best if I just let people go on thinking whatever they want. I think what I want. I’m relatively happy, and later I will pick up the pieces and carry on.

Why have I stopped trying to assist people?

Because last summer I was down the street at the Chapel of St. Arbucks having a coffee and swatting at flies. I was minding my own business when a young man-child, who looked like he had just had his first Freshman Philosophy Course, thrust himself into my life.

I was swatting away and he approaches and says to me, “You shouldn’t try to kill those flies. They have as much a right to live as you do.”

Right.

I stopped swatting, took a sip of my coffee, looked at him and replied, “Kid…go f—k yourself.” I don’t think he was expecting such a to the point answer. He got a shocked look on his face and quietly wandered away.

Mission accomplished.

That kid pushed me over a Philosophical precipice. After that encounter I no longer felt humanly obligated to tell anyone to watch out for that banana peel in their pathway. Having to deal with that organic speed bump was a cynical experience. His nonsensical intrusion would have turned Mahatma Gandhi into a cynical felon.

I can almost hear you as you read this.

“Man is he ever in a foul, Arthritic Geezer mood! What dog crapped on his lawn?”

OK, I admit it. I am in a bowl filled with soggy corn flakes kind of mood today. Why? I think a major portion of it has to do with the weather. We have been enjoying some nice warm temperatures – up into the 80s even (I love it hot) and then for no reason I can find the mercury in the thermometer dropped into the 40s. I do not like that.  In midwinter when we are going below zero I would dance in the streets for temps in the 40s, but after the snow is gone and there has been sunshine on my soul, to drop back several dozen degrees is just plain cruel.

I will improve in outlook once we hit 75 degrees again. I will stop kicking at dogs and college freshmen.

I promise.

So help me, Mahatma Gandhi.

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