And there are some things which simply make my blood boil. One of those are the relatively well off who have no idea what it is to be scared, sick, deprived, victimized, poor, and without resources either internally or externally. People who are so into themselves they cannot imagine what is it to be someone else. People who regard others as objects, without aspirations, without needs, without assets, to be bombed, shot, starved, or whatever for the gain of the better off.

It is good for me to be around those, as after I make a complete ass of myself ridiculing them I have to force myself to put myself into their lives, to understand what could possibly drive that mentality, and come out the other side realizing that they are truly the loser, they are deprived of the richness of relationship, of life, of sharing a common trip through this existence with others. They know need, but not love, and what they call love is toxic, a poison. They don't have relationships, are incapable of it, they take hostages.

I am sometimes a real jerk. A well-meaning jerk, and still a jerk. My Dad kind of screwed me over one time and told me he meant well. I was still smarting from what he had done, and angry. I told him, I was 12 y/o, that someone who meant well and didn't do well seemed like a fool to me. I got a quick backhand, one that didn't mean well at all, and neither of us apologized. The point is that while meaning well isn't an excuse, I'm not ready to apologize, either. I don't think that is in that little story, but it came to mind.