Mean People Suck

When I was in college I had a bumper sticker that said "Mean People Suck."  Some a-hole stole it, thus proving my point.   I'm sure everyone's had to remove an old bumper sticker from their car at one point or another, so none of us are ignorant to the fact that it is not an easy job.  It is an annoying and time-intensive task that involves a razor blade,  the ability to avoid cutting off your own finger, and patience.  Since Steve won't allow me to get anywhere near anything as sharp as a razor blade, and I don't even come close to having those last two qualities, I refrain from stealing other peoples bumper stickers. Even when they say something that I find offensive such as "My Kid Is Way Smarter Than Yours And Gets Awesome Grades At Such-And-Such School So I Am An Awesome Parent And You Are An Idiot Who Breeds Idiot Kids."  I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

The fact that some d-bag was mean enough and bored enough to take the time to remove every last trace of my beloved sticker to the point where even Mariska Hargitay and her team of CSI brainiacs could not have possibly found any remaining sign of it's existence, was really eye opening for me.  And the fact that someone that mean was running around in possession of a razor blade, frightened me to the core.  After a few days of depression regarding the obvious state of the world in which I lived, I decided to go back to the mall and buy not one, but two more bumper stickers and stand my ground.  Mean people suck.  It's the truth, and nobody can take away my freedom to broadcast the truth on my bumper.

Now, I wasn't stupid, nor was  I  sheltered enough to believe mean people didn't exist.  Obviously I knew they did, and I knew they sucked.  The first mean person I remember seeing is Nellie Olson, but that was only television.  Thank God. The first real run-in with a mean person that I can recall, was a babysitter whose house my mom took us to when we were pretty young.  She told me to eat some blueberries.  Since my dislike of blueberries is on par with my dislike of John Denver, bananas and black crows (the birds, not the band), I said no thank you.  She told me if I didn't eat them she would spank me.  I pretty much told her to make my day.  She backed down.  This was an important lesson for me:  Mean person tells you to do something that you don't want to do: Stand your ground! Mean person is confused. Mean person doesn't know what to do.  Mean person backs down. Nice blueberry hating person wins.

When I was young, there was a bossy girl in my neighborhood.  Bossy is a nice way to say that someone is controlling, manipulative, mean-spirited and likes to cause trouble.  Bossy is a word we often use to describe children who are actually, in all reality, mean a-holes that no adult has the balls to describe as an a-hole because they are "just a kid."  Since I'm older, wiser, and have developed an enormous set of balls over the years, I will say it:  This girl was an a-hole.  She always had to be on the outs with at least one kid, and she always convinced the others to side with her.  We all took our turns on both sides, for some reason more than willing to do whatever it took to keep her happy.  She never, ever, EVER go into trouble for anything she did.  If you actually got up enough nerve to tattle on her, she would turn everyone against you and you would somehow end up the one in trouble.  When I'd finally had enough of her crap,  I did 3 bad things: (1) I asked to borrow a belt of hers that she adored and I cut it into pieces, put it in a paper bag, and gave it back to her. (2) I took her bike, rode it a few blocks away, found a bikeless kid, told them it was their lucky day, and gave it away.  (3) I gave her a few "chocolates" that were actually laxatives.  Once the stomach cramps started, I pretended to hear my mom calling and headed for home.  I know these things were wrong, but man they felt so good.

In 6th grade when I was finally free from the prison that was my private Christian school, and I was sent into the general population which was public, I found out that there are lots of mean people in the world.  One good lesson I learned was that being funny is very helpful when dealing with mean kids.  On more than one occasion I distracted a bully by making them laugh and making them want to be my friend.  When that failed, like it did in 7th grade, I used my mad thinking skillz to distract the bully from the situation at hand.  In case you didn't know, most bullies are not very bright and are easily distracted by things such as simple jokes, odd noises, shiny objects, or something new on which to focus their hate.  When nothing else was working, I went the hate re-focusing route. I decided to dictate a note to an older neighbor, which she wrote in her handwriting (in case handwriting experts were called in at some point.  Preparedness is key).  The note was between 2 girls whose names I made up,  and it was talking about the bully. How much they disliked her, etc... I crumpled it up, pretended I found it and gave it to someone, who gave it to someone else, who gave it to her.  The minute she read it she forgot about me and focused her hate on this new, non-existent prey.  I felt like a super-genius.  I felt amazing. 

In Junior High I attracted yet another bully.  This one was after me because of a boy that she liked that liked me.  This particular specimen was not distractable in any way, shape or form.  I used up my entire arsenal of ideas, and yet she still focused a hate on me so intense that it actually looked like it hurt her to look at me.  I later learned from Oprah that nine times outta 10, people like this have parents that have royally screwed them up.  But at the time, I just thought she was born crazy.  Anyway, there was no way out of this one, and when she showed up at my house one afternoon, I knew it was go time.  I wasn't eager to fight her, but I knew that if I didn't, my older sister was most likely going to kill her.  For real.  Having a murderer in the family is fun for no one (I assume) so I took one for the team.  If you've ever seen a fight between two 14-year-old girls, you can probably imagine how it went.  It looks like two cats fighting.  There's scratching, hair pulling, windmill arms, screeching and lots of rolling.  Lots and lots of rolling. Nobody really wins.  You just repeat the things I listed above until you get too tired.  Then it's over, and you don't really hate each other anymore.  No big deal.  Harder than telling jokes, but easier than I thought.

So by the age of 14 I really had things figured out.  Mean people are running rampant in our society and that will never change.  But you don't have to be one of them.  You can be happy and fun and hope that one doesn't cross your path.  If by chance one does, you should have at least one or two good comedy routines memorized.  If your bully is too dumb or too filled with murderous rage to have a sense of humor, make sure you are wearing something shiny and reflective, like a wristwatch, that you can distract them with.  If they have poor eyesight, make sure you have that Fart app on your phone.  Rare is the person who can keep a straight face while hearing a fart noise.  If all that fails, you may have to roll around on the ground pulling each other's hair.  But don't worry, because nine times out of ten you're both gonna be laughing in the end or at the very least, be too tired to give a crap why you were fighting in the first place.  And if by chance they're still mad...offer them a chocolate.