Keeping the Faith

I had an interesting conversation with an old friend today.


“I like you better now,” he said.


Old friends are the best ones. An old friend can explain, with no rancor nor regret, how throughout much of your twenty plus years together, you were a jerk.


And somehow or another, that endeared you to the masses.


I guess that should bother me, but I am a firm believer the truth was never meant to make you mad.


Most of the people who like me, and have liked me over the years, have done so in spite of my being an egotistical two fisted ass whose intellect and elocution served as a double edged sword, used equally against friend and foe alike.


Honestly, the women who have loved me did so because I was a jerk. Even those who left, having had their heads and hearts put through the wringer, seldom stayed gone long. How do I know? Because the ones who were mad because you were such an ass call you in tears over the fact that you married someone else. Someone, for the record, whom they heard you were NOT an Asshole to, and this may or may not have worked in your favor. “Mistreat me, PLEASE! Leave her and you can mistreat me all you like. I need a good mind game now, JD. Please?” It amazes me how more people can love someone who is such an Asshole but detest and walk over that same person when they have grown into something kinder, gentler, and hopefully, wiser.

“It’s not that I have given up the religion of Asshole,” I explained to my friend via telephone, “I am just no longer Orthodox Asshole, which requires Assholishness 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with alternating Christmases off. Think of me as Reformist Asshole. When necessary, I keep the tenets of my religion, and I am a good Asshole at those times. The days when necessary, I can pull that off the shelf. For now, though, I just like to devote myself to being understanding of my fellow human. We all have it SO hard these days.”


I could hear him shaking his head. “I like you better, now,” he said slowly, “but I’m not sure this is gonna be good for you. You have always thrived, personally, when you could be a turbo jerk. This nice stuff is either going to get you flushed, or worse, cause for such a buildup that when it comes time, you are going to go into the Asshole stratosphere.”

I pictured myself waking up one day, head on fire, castigating and riding folk and just being an all out fool until I was lifted, by me head, to the heavens, cussing out clouds with every foot I ascended.


“That guy is gone,” I said ruefully. “He was there primarily to protect a really sensitive person from getting his feelings hurt, and from being walked over like a three day old welcome mat.”


“I’m just saying,” came the wistful reply, “Face it. None of us really liked Anakin Skywalker. A whole lot of us rooted for Darth Vader.”


I remember rooting for Hannibal Lecter. I understood.


“There is neither honor nor pleasure in being a bad guy,” I intoned.


“You don’t even believe that,” my friend castigated me. “At least when you were a regular practicing asshole, you told the truth. To yourself and others.”


“I am happy and at peace,” I argued weakly.


“You sleeping at night?”


I call people and hear them waiting, with baited breath, for some vitriol. When there is none, they find ways to end the conversation. These same folk would have called me on garbage mere months before and delighted in my handling of them.


People call me, looking for a solution that not only addresses the problem but puts perpetrators in their place. Squarely. When I suggest prayer and working on their inner self, they groan and change the subject. I do not hear from these people again. They unfriend me on Facebook and when I call they are never home. Even when I call from their driveway. When their cars are in the carports. And their kids are playing in the yard. .


My own mother made a point of contacting me and saying she would no longer read YNB if I did not return to my sarcastic albeit insightful ways.


Being an Asshole is some things, and it isn’t others. You have to have an opinion. You have to believe your research for your opinions is infallible. If it is not, it will only be proven so when YOU discover said new research. You have to have honor. Assholes do not dog women, they do not mislead men. What they think and do is a result of straight ahead dealing. Plus a certain amount of, “Look at me-I’m bad enough to think, feel and say what I want without hiding” braggadocio. You must be sarcastic but not cynical. You must be angry but never sad. You set aside good works to do to balance out your dirt but you never perform these works for someone you’ve shafted. You hold grudges, but you love hard. You believe in loyalty and honesty, to YOU. You are not above throwing someone under the bus, but again, lying is out unless it protects someone. Assholes are not bullies. We often fight for the underdog, but see nothing wrong with exploiting those whom we have saved. We have an unwavering sense of fairness, usually because it gives us grounds to fight anyone we think is unfair, and not feel bad afterwards about wrecking shop. We are selfish altruists. The ancient Greeks characterized the Asshole as he who the gods deemed could only be born between July 23rd and August 22, but they may be a bit off.


Many of us who practice the faith didn’t intend to stay Assholes. I, for example, started out with every intention of being the ultimate power broker, the BSD. I won’t explain the letters but here’s a dictionary definition: “1. the financial industry's term for a rainmaker; a Wall Street executive who brings in enormous amounts of money for the firm, possibly because he has just screwed a customer. 2. A mover and shaker in any organization Calling some one a d**k is an insult. Calling some one a big d**k is a bigger insult. Calling some one a big swinging d**k is a term of respect.” Wow. Online dictionaries are so much more fun than the Webster’s of my childhood.


I aspired to BSD status, which is the PhD to the Asshole’s Masters Degree. Bachelor studies are referred to as Jerk. Remember, all Assholes are jerks but not all jerks are Assholes. Recognize. I had BSD ambition but compassion and a tiny inkling to love someone got in the way. I got caught in the ranks, like guys who attend military academies and get stuck at captain. I got stuck at Asshole. I aspired to Asshole Supreme for a while, which is kinda like being the highest ranking NCO in the marines, but washed out when I couldn’t be asshole enough with small children.


Times have changed, and I have come to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, the world was a more interesting place with the old me. I have learned, since turning 38 this past August, no good deed goes unpunished, the devil does look out for his own, and the dirty get away with so much more than the clean who make a mistake here or there. Being an asshole had its benefits. It cost, but what doesn’t? It doggone sure doesn’t hurt as much. It’s time for that Zen like question: is all growth good, is all progress productive? While meditating this, I again see my body floating for the heavens, clouds cringing in my wake, birds looking like, “Maybe not. Not today.”


Before he rang off, my friend said, “The thing to remember, man, wasn’t that people loved you because you were an Asshole. We loved you because you were OUR Asshole.”


Oh.