Michael Swickard
I was not born into the online world, though most people now have at least one foot in it. Most of us geezers go back to Underwood manual typewriters and rotary dial phones. We grew up having our interactions in a face-to-face environment.
Earlier this week I was rude to Governor Richardson in my column, “Buttegate, a lesson in how to not act as governor.” In a past generation I could not have written that and not found myself at the same luncheon as Richardson standing nose to nose for my words at his expense.
In small towns, when you write rude things about people, you see them several times each day. In that world he might have tried to punch me in the snout. He and I are about the same size and fitness, so unless his security detail jumped in it would be an even fight.
Importantly, when we had burned up enough testosterone, we would have shook hands and, while not buddies, the issue would end because we had dealt with each other fairly. There would have been no sucker punches or letting someone else punch for us.
Many in the online community today never are in the same room with those which whom they cross swords. The “flamers,” as they are called, are sneak-thieves who usually are not made to atone for personal attacks. In this online community I am often only one of a few using my own name.
Maybe this life is an improvement, or not. Television has many lippy shows in which the writers provided a bunch of Don Rickles style put-downs that are delivered with gusto. Most deserve a good punch in the snout, but that is television.
Real punches are different
Sadly, some of our youngsters are surprised when what is really funny on television gets their butt kicked. Real punches in the snout are quite different from television fake punches.
I remember a young child I watched grow up years ago in a small town. Harvey’s mother spoiled him. He was not all that bad, just rambunctious and smart-mouthed. Overall, I liked him despite his mouth. Then Harvey became an adult.
It was a quiet night at the local bar. I was playing pool with Benny the bartender. We were the only ones in the bar. The door opened and a large burly man came in. He ordered a beer and went to the pay phone.
“Trucker,” Benny said as the man talked on the phone. We played a while and then the man become agitated. Finally he said loudly, “What do you mean divorce?”
A minute later he slammed down the handset and returned to his beer at the bar. He stared off into space trying to put his life back together. We played quietly so as to not disturb him.
At that point Harvey came in and shouted from the door, “Beer for me, water for my horse.” Benny went over and poured him a beer. There was a second pool table and Harvey wanted to play so he walked over to the trucker, “Hey old man, bet I can beat you at pool.”
The trucker looked up and shook his head no. That subtlety was lost on Harvey. He sneered, “What’s the matter, scared of losing?”
In a low voice the trucker said, “Go away, boy.”
Harvey puffed up, “Calling me a boy is like calling an alligator a lizard.”
Harvey enjoyed being obnoxious. He stepped up to the man to smart off again when the man hit him once in the mouth. That was all it took. For Harvey it was like flying into a mountain — one moment he was A-OK, the next second he was a total wreck.
It only took one punch
The man looked to see if we were on Harvey’s side. We shrugged and continued our game. The trucker said to the unconscious Harvey, “Next time, when I say to go away you’d best do it.” Then he picked up his change and went out the door.
The punch allowed him to vent his anger. We heard his diesel snarl into action and he went on his way to a new life.
Harvey came back to life feeling pretty sick. “What happened,” he moaned. Benny told him, “Your alligator mouth just got your lizard body into a heap of trouble.” We helped Harvey up and collected his teeth on the floor in a paper bag so he could put them under his pillow. He lurched unsteadily out of the bar.
Later, his mother yelled at us because we did not help Harvey, but Benny said Harvey started the fight.
After that Harvey was a shining example of manners. It only took one punch.
I wonder if a good punch in the snout would improve flamers?
Swickard is a weekly columnist for this site. You can reach him at michael@swickard.com.
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