Be the bad guy

It’s fun to be the bad guy!

40 years ago, a group of would sit in the lounge at Elmhurst College and talk and talk and someone would come up with something and someone else would say, “Let it be inscribed in The Book of Evil Deeds.” And, upon saying that, another one of us would solemnly go through the motions of opening a large book and writing something in it.

The Book of Evil Deeds became a ring binder notebook and most of the stuff written in it was pretty silly, which was the idea of course. But there was a reality behind it that stuck. It was fun to be the bad guy.

If you actually think about it, the bad guy has it a lot easier in life, assuming that he has the brains not to end up in jail. Ok, I’m not talking about that kind of bad guy. I’m talking about the person who has made such a career out of breaking all the rules that no one expects him to follow any. You see, there are all kinds of rules out there and people more than willing to make them. And if you let them get away with it you spend your life constantly looking over your shoulder wondering what X may think, even though anyone with any brains could not care less if X even did think, much less what.

So you break their damned rules.

Ok, sometimes it is just too easy. I mean, let’s be honest and admit that vegans have it coming and there are few things more pleasurable than eating a rare steak in front of one. And the internet has made it ever so much easier because no matter what you say, there is going to be some self-righteous baboon waiting to be offended. So all you have to do is say anything and let the baboon get all upset and do your work for you.

But the important thing is be yourself, and to be yourself in such a way that everytime you get someone disturbed, you have a good laugh at their expense and if you do it right, they will not have an answer for you. And I have to give an example.

My wife’s family is somewhat deficient between the ears, being Roman Catholic and you know my opinion of that already. Well, my wife had this aunt who really was deficient to the point that she made a pilgrimage to that idiot place in Bosnia and go so blessed that when she came home she got run over by a bus and killed. Some blessing!

Well, we went to the funeral. Oh god, I thought I was going to puke! You took on look at the priests and you knew that no choir boy was going to be safe in their presence and it went on and on and on. No five dollar funeral for this lady, she got the full seventy five dollar treatment. (Ok, my age is showing.) Well we suffered through it and then went to lunch. And proceeded to try to forget the whole tawdry affair, go home and get the laundry done.

A few weeks later comes the annual wife’s family Christmas gathering. These are not my favorite people but I love my wife and I suffer them for her sake, much as I would prefer just making them suffer. My sister-in-law asks me what I thought of the funeral and I looked at her and said, “I thought they would never shut up and bury the damned woman!”

It was one of those moments that make getting up in the morning worth the trouble. It really is fun to be the bad guy.

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