Ruiner

It's shocking how much joy some folks get out of ruining things for other folks. Little kids I can understand. There's a primal excitement about making someone eat dirt or stomping on their sandcastle or in my case pushing Tommy Cartieri's fingers back until he cried. (For the record, he told me to.)

Adults are another story. A friend recently related a story whereby another friend showed her the ending of a much-anticipated book. The ruiner danced it in front of her face quickly -- or so he thought -- but she had enough time to read and process the last three lines. That ain't right. It's wrong is what it is.

In the grand scheme of things, this ranks relatively low. I remember hearing a forensic veterinarian on NPR relate a particularly gruesome torture of a puppy by two teenage boys. What's interesting here:

-- There are such things as forensic vets.

-- I said puppy which is a top favorite word of mine and you can guarantee I'm going to get mad real fast.

-- Teenagers are involved so shit's not going to make any sense.

-- Gruesome torture should alert you to look away if you're faint of heart.

Okay. These boys hog-tied the puppy. They then doused it in lighter fluid and set the puppy on fire. But the puppy wouldn't die. So they baked the puppy in the oven. This, the forensic vet ascertained, was how the puppy died.

Obviously, this case is beyond ruiners. It's just plain fucked up. The forensic vet was on the verge of tears as she retold this story.

I've forgotten my original point. But let me offer this instead. If you see someone on the verge of ruining something for someone else, do like the MTA says and kick them in the nuts. Hard. And then kick them again because that's what Bruce Lee would do. You know what? Throw down one more swift kick for that puppy.

Thanks.