We're All Victims Of Our Own Good Nature...

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. - Karl Marx

So, just to inform you ahead of time, I have to write a best man's speech, and i need a little warm up. Well, that's not all that accurate, I need to let loose my demons so as my second attempt at the speech isn't quite so morbid as it's first incarnation.

It takes a lot of ranting to get me to step down to a PG-13 level, so here we go.

We're not really victims of anything, we don't have a good nature. Not to suggest we're all inheriently evil, but we've been molded into it. Ever seen a baby stab a man for $38 and a new pair of Nikes? Yeah, they seem so cute and innocent until they get in that dark alley. The id takes over while the superego naps. Ohhh doesn't the superego nap all too often. The funniest thing about it, is it takes no where near as much time to make a bad descision, as it does to make a good one.

I'm going to go off on a little tangent here, and tell a story. Remember, this is a true story, and it will of course eventually come to support the point I was making. A long time ago, I used to work for Colorado Prime. If you're not familiar with them, it's because they had a miserable market penetration, and relied too heavily on underskilled sales people to keep themselves alive. I was one of them, the underskilled sales people. Well, actually no, I'm not an shady bastard. See, what you've got to understand is that good salesmen are miserable people, on the most part. A good salesmen can sell anything, and while I do believe i'm capable of doing so, it doesn't mean i'll allow myself to do so. So, Colorado Prime delivered high quality food at an outrageous mark up, that's the broad strokes of it. They found that conventions and malls were high traffic areas where they could bait people into giving up personal information for marketing purposes. It's pretty common, especially at conventions, hell it's all you see. They even go far enough to hire amatuer models to attract the middle aged and lonely. That's how the story starts, middle aged and lonely.

So, I'm in a mall, a piece of shit mall no less. Drinking coffee to survive the long and grueling hours. Shitty coffee no less, served to me by a rare breed of white trash. And, in the process of performing my function as an initial information gatherer, or annoying bastard, I found myself talking to this lonely middle aged man. You could read the anger and disappointment in his eyes. Funny enough, he just happened to be a republican. I started to talk to him, but the topic quickly shifted away from what I had to offer. I do believe at one point he actually pulled out his NRA card. Without all that much thought, an over opinionated woman joined into the conversation at this point. You've got to understand when I suggest that this was a mall, I should go on to say, this looked like a mall. It was more of, a diamond in dirt. We're in the middle of no where, small town america where they close every business in town on the first day of hunting season. Either way, this loser starts ranting about how those homos in Washington are trying to take away his guns. Yes, not only republican, but a member of the NRA, extremely ignorant, and a homophobic. The conversation was starting to get a bit heated, voices started to raise past a level commonly socially acceptable, and for some reason I took it upon myself to quell this little verbal uprising. I don't know why, but I allowed him to get the last words in, which just happened to be "And those niggers better know I've got a gun, fuck who says I don't got a gun right now?" For those of you keeping score at home, he's now obviously a Republican/NRA Member/Biggot/Asshole/Racist, back to you Jim. I took a moment to peer first at his armpits, then his belt, and finally his ankle. The bells rang, and confetti rained down from the rafters as I'd noticed the previously inconspicuous buldge around his boots. Now, either this man was betraying the trust invested in him and in the House Arrest system, or he was as stupid as i'd assumed, and in fact had a fire arm on him at the moment. Two things: First, I have no problem with guns, they're impressive bit of engineering and machining. Second, in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania it was at this point in time illegal to possess a concealed weapon. So, I knew I had a carefully diffuse the situation. Being as this memory is still rather prominent in my mind, i'm able to recite my actions verbatim. "Excuse me, but if i could, i wanted to make a small illustration to help the level of understanding in this situation. Could you both please make a fist out of your more prominent hand?" Not all that surprisingly, neither understood which hand I was making reference to. "Just make a fist out of the hand you write with, and raise it into the air." They both reluctantly complied. "Now, take your pointer finger, and point it upward." Again, with a little less resistance, they complied. "Now, curl that finger inward, in an attempt to touch the palm of your fisted hand." With little difficulty, they completed the demonstration. "Congratulations, in a meer moment with no thought, you've sucessfully killed another human being!" That puzzled look that stayed upon their face most of the day, once more returned, in full effect no less. "Ohhh i'm sorry, neither of you were holding a gun at the moment. That is in fact the problem, convience. Before you take a moment to disagree, think how much more time and effort you'd have to expend to kill another person with an axe? Think how vicious and inhumane it seems to cleave through flesh, and compare how easy it is to pull a trigger.

Thats how I like to remember the story, I often leave out how the guy threw my pen at me and told me to fuck myself, or the letter the woman sent to the corporate office. Worst of all, is I was some what defending her, but she felt I was acting in an unbecoming fashion. Yeah, fuck her too for some reason unknown to most of us.

If it were only as difficult to kill as it were to create. Then, the term fucking someone to death would seem a bit more logical. Even better, at every crime scene you'd find the passed out next to the victim.

I forgot where I was going with all of this, but it did take care of all that nice anger, so the speech can be all butterflies and flowers.

-Rys4K

p.s.- If some how, you oddly anonymous visitors didn't recieve an invitation, i'll post the best man's speech here... After the wedding, because we all hate spoilers and all.