Ever envision yourself just punching some cutoff driver in the head at a stoplight? Or, slamming rude grocery store women with a can of baked beans after they force you aside in the canned foods aisle? Yes, this is unbecoming and hardly appropriate in our age of fretting over a wrongly turned breath at one of another cultural persuasion. But the images flagrantly present themselves in my head, nonetheless.
The first time I recall it happening, I was maybe 16. Being a large mammal, I was walking down some street in Washington D.C. on a trip and some guy shouted something out about how I'd better move my fat ass out of the road, cause he didn't know how he was gonna miss it, or something. Anyway, I like rocks and I just happened to have a nice, smooth round granite rock in my hand, that probably weighed 5 pounds. Enough to brain someone with through the back window of a pickup truck, surely. As the truck slowly pulled past, I envisioned myself hurling it with Olympic precision through the back window of the truck. And the only thing that kept me from doing it is that I was far away from home, and it occurred to me: "I don't want to go to jail today." Oh, the wide crevasse between thought and action. It saves me daily.