You’ve noticed, right?  I mean, you’re having a good day, the weather’s not bad, you have time to get things done… and you see someone else losing it completely- the guy in traffic, behind the wheel of his car, ineffectually squealing tires when you know he’ll have to slam the brakes on in half a block, cursing at everything from the other side of those car windows.  -the lady at the grocery store, demanding to know why the tube of biscuit dough is thirty seven cents higher than it’s supposed to be, and not wanting to hear that it’s the generic store brand that’s priced that way, not the high-end  organic non-gluten artisanal imported biscuit dough in the same kind of paper tube.

Apoplectic rage, when it has nothing to do with us in particular, looks suspiciously like an exhausted child’s hissy-fit.

It’s a shame, really, ’cause the energy spent in that kind of apoplectic outburst feels so darned important when you’re swimming in it yourself.

So let’s all remember both sides the next time it happens.

Nobody snicker at the jet powered spitwads flyin’ off of anyone’s… or our own… mouths.