I use my Irish sarcasm because beating up people is illegal. If you know me well enough, you know that my Irish wit can sometimes lean towards that which could construed as sarcastic. First let me say that there is nothing inherently wrong with sarcasm as long as it isn’t cruel or hurtful. Moreover, someone much, much smarter and insightful than me, a pundit of mild reknown – Oscar Wilde – once opined that “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but the highest form of intelligence.” Who am I to question such absolute profundity? Well, here is one time my rapier-sharp, always at the ready sarcastic thinking got me into trouble.
See more I use my Irish sarcasm because beating up people is illegal mug
I was living and working in downtown Chicago and the anti-Christ I was dating at the time and I were headed somewhere, walking like we often did. At one point (without knowing anything about him I’ll be kind and use the words “poor and “unfortunate” instead of the ones I am DYING to use!) this disheveled, unshaven man – whose cheese had obviously slid off the cracker quite some time ago – made a beeline for us. Since there was no convenient dumpster to jump in, Lizzie Borden and I continued walking right at him.
When he got within range (You didn’t need sight to know he was near!) he said, “Hey, folks, I’m homeless. Can you spare any change for bus fare?” And you guessed it, without one fleeting nanosecond of moral thought or possible consequence I replied, “If you’re homeless, where are you taking the bus to?” I use my Irish sarcasm because beating up people is illegal. He stared back at me, confused, speechless in complete absence of cognitive thought process and walked away. At that point, I’m doing my human best to suppress a mild chuckle trying seriously to morph into an unrestrained howl!
Beating up people is illegal
Wherever that reply came from, it belonged in the Johnny Carson quick retort Hall of Fame! These were the congratulatory thoughts racing through my head, with no precognition of the impending doom about to befall me. I glanced over at Tillie Klimek and she was glaring at me with the purest laser-focused stare of sheer, unadulterated hatred I have ever seen in my life. For the next ten minutes she ripped into me in a manner that would’ve made the meanest drill sergeant on Earth envious, not once coming up for air, screaming at the top of her lungs about my lack of compassion for those less fortunate, my unfounded ignorance, my lack of human kindness and spirituality, and etc.