Crow

Crow

Will there be fries with that? Of course! Well if ya gotta eat crow, ya might as well curb the taste somewhat, cause crow ain’t anybody’s favorite diet, ‘specially when the dessert course is humble pie. It’s a little bit like when yer mom said you’ll eat every bite on yer plate before ya get to go play an’ that’s all there is to it. There’s only one way out an’ that’s to hunker down an’ clean the plate.

Nobody ever expects to get served up such a menu, so it’s always a shock when it arrives at yer table. An’ the first thing ya do is try to figure out what happened here. What’d I do to deserve this? It must be someone else’s fault, but whose? It turns out I’ve served up the menu to myself (if I wanna be honest about it). What do ya think I found out?

For years I been busy dissin’ the haters for their stupid opinions. How can they possibly be so intransigent in holdin’ to their obviously wrong opinions? Oh, wait a minute here. That could apply to me too, couldn’t it? It turns out that I’m just as obstinate as them what don’t agree with me. Holy Hannah! That means they think as much of me as I do o’ them. I suddenly heard my father’s voice sayin’ “With my fist in my pocket, I beat the tar out o’ him”, meaning his idiot boss (in his mind). What that actually meant was that he could vent his rage to his heart’s content without getting to actual verbal (or physical) blows. The next day they would go about their business in a usual friendly way, negotiatin’ their way through the disagreement they’d had like the gentlemen they were.

The trick then is to get yer own personal rage over with privately, an’ then figure out a way to respectfully engage in dialogue to communicate with the other parties to reach some consensus. An’ now that I’ve made my menu selection, by the time I got it choked down, I figure I might just have the problem solved. At least that’s how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin’.