Knee-Jerky

Sometimes I say things without thinking.

I'm sure you do too. I'm sure at the time that I'm feeling very clever or witty or funny and that everyone is hanging on my every word because I'm so wise. You get the idea. Well, not. Just not. These things that I say sometimes, they might indeed be hilarious, but at the expense of someone else. They might make me feel like I'm very funny, but only because I've pointed out something that is not funny at all to the party that is impacted by my mirth. I might feel superior or smart or talented or large and in charge, but if the things I say (or do) bring someone else to their knees in the process, well, am I really lifting myself up, or am I tearing down the race? You know, in a cosmic sense. Dig it? Oh, yes, I am ashamed to say, I have done this. In person (ouch). On Twitter (millions of potential readers? Double ouch). Other places. I have done it, and I am not proud of it.

I have used knee-jerky. I have wadded it up and put it in my mouth and felt the bite and the flavor and the spice of it. I have chewed it and felt the juice roll down my chin and wiped it on my sleeve. I have spit a little of it out on the ground. I have felt its raw flavor and then I have swallowed it, and it does not always sit on my stomach so easy, no, not at all. Sometimes it sits there for a while, it stews, it digests slowly. Hell, sometimes I feel it creeping back up, regurgitating and burning me just a little. Not enough to permanently scar, but enough to let me know that it's there.

Moron. Mental case. Touched in the head. Crazy. Wacko. Retarded. Brain dead. Idiot. Neanderthal.

Knee-jerky.

Have you chewed on any lately?

My best advice to you (and to myself)?

Spit it out.

Switch to sugar free mints.