Explanation

Or: Psychotic Rambling

I’m not in the business of ever explaining anything I write.  Generally, I just figure if someone got the wrong idea about me, it doesn’t really matter.  Because, honestly, if you really are the person you reflect toattlay in your blog entries, you are probably boring.  I do, however, feel the need to explain that last post.

For one, it’s almost a direct copy of something I wrote a long time ago. It’s sort of a bar fight poem.  So, the hostility there is not really that hostile.  I remember this one camp fire discussion of martial arts where it was postulated that the purpose of any sort of martial art, or what passes for them in your envrinment, is to codify violence and keep it safe.  Sure, a boxer will break a nose here and there, but the rules keep him mostly safe from being beat to death.  Now, anyone who has ever been part of a rougher crowd knows fights don’t just happen.  It proves nothing to anybody to just slug a complete stranger in the face with no lead up.  That’s why there are elaborate posturing mechanisms in place.  They give both people plenty of time to back down and also alert bystanders that the environment may be unsafe in a few seconds.

So, anyway,the broken knee.  My room mate was drunk as hell.  In his defense, so was everyone else.  We got in a spirited discussion debating who would be better based fundamentally to win a real (non artistic) fight, a wrestler or a karate student.  Of course I took the position of wrestler and he argued for the merits of karate.  He had been trained in it.  So, as the rhetoric escalated, but all friendly, he decided to prove one of his points.  I’m not sure which one, but it was over pretty quick.  My brain doesn’t work quite right when people jump on me.  There are ways I respond before things like rationalism can find their way into the mix.  One of them is to get low, adopt a wide stance, and when available, find a joint.

As any person versed in anatomy can tell you, joints can respond to shear or torque, but never both at the same time.  So, if you want to end a fight, it’s just torque and shear, then things pop and move.

So, yes, I meant to break my room mate’s knee.  Not his knee in particular.  Just the knee of the person on top of me going for a choke.  I felt bad about it, and drove him to the hospital.  He was lamed up for a while. We’re still friends.

I can tell you that I am about the nicest person you will meet.  Not in a smiley way, but in a very empathetic and peaceful sort of way.  Just don’t try and choke me.