275. Live and Let Live

They may not be your kind of peo­ple. They may not even be my kind of peo­ple. Come to think of it, I’m prob­a­bly not your kind of per­son. What­ever. They, you, me – we’ve all been here since the (human) world began, or at least yobos like us. No reli­gion, ide­ol­ogy, cul­ture, reign of ter­ror, or adver­tis­ing agency has ever been able to change the whole daggy mix. So what do you want to do about it? Stand on a street cor­ner and preach to the con­verted? Retreat to your lim­ou­sine and sort them into your superior type and the other trash? Be a preda­tor to prey on the unwary and unwise? Screw any­thing that moves and get wasted while the party lasts? Hope for a safe life of sub­ur­ban gos­sip, the small world of office hello-friend­ships and fear of the tabloid mur­der rate? Well, it’s your call. Me? I’m glad that it takes all kinds of peo­ple to make the world go around. There would be no sto­ries with­out them. I don’t do bars, usu­ally, but I under­stood my father who used to say before stum­bling off to find a new dive, des­per­ate to escape his des­o­late home life, “gotta go check out the local wildlife”.