Smart v. Stupid
Do conservatives deserve a punch in the nose?
, A grown man gave my son the finger today. The man was riding in his car, which was sporting a bunch of anti-Obama bumper stickers. Things like “Obama tortures me,” I’m told. You know the type.
So while my wife and son drove by, Jake gave the guy a thumbs-down. (He is his father’s son.) In return, the man gave an 8-year-old boy the finger. Yes, that finger.
Both my wonderful wife, Suzanne, and my young son took the attempted insult in stride. They looked at each other and laughed. To tell you the truth, when they told me, so did I. But it made me start thinking about something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately—Is it time to start punching conservatives in the nose?
There is actually a pretty good argument for belting these big-mouths. Here are seven reasons why you might want to consider it:
Of course, there are potential downsides to snout-slapping some jerk. Principal among them, you might get one back. There is also the possibility that you’ll get arrested, although that involves the jerk admitting that he got owned. There is also an outside chance you might spend a night in jail.
But redefining the relationship between cooperating citizens and anarchists is an important job. Because by our tolerance we’ve let these people get louder and louder while simultaneously getting dumber and dumber. It’s time to redraw the boundaries.
We used to tell women not to fight if they were being raped. We used to tell robbing victims not to try to run. Remember when we used to tell passengers not to resist if their plane was highjacked? “Be tolerant of intolerant jerks” is the same sort of good idea that wasn’t.
Those who behave badly need a reason to think twice about it. A punch in the nose might be just the right cultural medicine. Just sayin'. ...
Jimmy Zuma splits his time between Washington, D.C. and Tucson. He writes the online opinion journal, Smart v. Stupid. He spent 5 years in Tucson in the early ‘80s, when life was a little slower, swamp coolers were a little more plentiful, Tucson’s legendary music scene was in full bloom, and the prevailing work ethic was “don’t - unless you have to.”