Noel the Coward

Have you ever been convinced you don’t have one brave bone in your body? Climbing in the Himalayas is tough but you have company in the form of Sherpa guides, but what about joining a demonstration in the lobby of Trump Tower and being marched away in a paddy wagon. Say you’re claustrophobic and don’t like being locked up for the few hours before your  annoyed partner bails you out ( “I was terrified,” she screams, “don’t ever do that again!”). Ok you’re in caught in the cross walk as the light is changing and you casually give the bird to the driver of an incoming car. It’s easy to to say “fuck you” to someone to a person or object in motion. But lo here’s a chap who isn’t happy being told to fuck himself and is not afraid to pull up next to you, get out of his car and threaten you with his MMA resume. Might mention there’s liquor on his breath. You stand there like a goof ball with your hands in your pockets as he puts you before the House Un-American Activities Committee. Would you "have not decency" and "welch" on your old communist cellmate? Or would you go to JAIL and fail to collect you $200? You know yourself. Deep down you’re the stuff of Welsh rarebit. Run! That or try to excuse yourself from your local genocide by claiming you’re not the liberal intellectual you seem to be. Cry and lie—thems is your weapons, unless you’re the latest product of Walter Mitty’s or rather Lee Childs’ imagination, a super hero named Reacher!

Question of the day: Should you take it personally when someone rejects you?