Am I just 170 pounds of anger waiting for the slightest excuse to erupt in a fiery cataclysm of verbal or textual rage? It feels like that sometimes. Keeping the righteous indignation at bay is a 24/7 job in the “I’m right” social media age. Some days I’m pretty successful at it, other days…well, I can probably make more friends, right?

I’ve always been a fiery guy, though, wearing my emotions like an expensive suit. If you don’t now how I feel about about something you might be both deaf and blind, but even then I suspect you could likely sense my feelings through vibration or ambient heat.

This morning at the coffee shop a dude butted in front of me when it was my turn next to be served. I’m not even entirely sure if was cutting in line, he was kind of floating around the general cashier area, so maybe he was technically in line before I got there. I don’t know.

What I am sure of was that I immediately hated him. I hated his dirty unkempt hair. I hated his way too baggy jeans. I hated the weird angles of his bullshit jaw and his dumb cro-magnon face. I had never seen or spoken to this man before but suddenly his was my life-long nemesis. I scowled at his general direction as he waited like a patient asshole for his coffee and said “thanks” to the barista like a fucking dickhole.

For me not being an angry jerk is like losing weight. Sure I might be able to control my eating most of the time, but inside I’m always going to be a fat dude screaming “Eat that cake! Put more butter on that corn! That PB&J sammy could use some Smarties!”

It’s all just will power. Will power eventually breaks down, it’s inevitable, and all that anger needs to go somewhere. Most of the time it’s directed at some Fox News correspondent, climate science denier or other deserving party, which is all fine and dandy. But occasionally it’s directed at some poor dude who just wanted a coffee, or worse, someone I care about. All I can do when the dam breaks is patch it up as quick as possible and start repairing the damage.

Was that as funny and self-reflective as it was meant to be? Well, whatever, the point is here is you Dead-Beef comic. See you next week!

Dead-Beef: The Couch