SHs and DWs

If you’ve been paying attention, or if you know me in most of my life, you know that I don’t use any more profanity than is absolutely necessary. My mother would say that there is no profanity that is absolutely necessary. To that, I’d say that she must live an existence that doesn’t require her coming into contact with as many shit-heels as mine does. You see, when somebody is a shit-heel, they ain’t nothing but a shit-heel, and you just can’t do anything but recognize them as such, unless you choose not to recognize them at all. That’s probably best, but sometimes you just gotta bring somebody to the head of the class, so to show people how not to act.

You might ask what exactly denotes a shit-heel. I’ve been asked if a shit-heel is the same as a dilweed, and it’s a good question. The two are not the same, however. A dilweed is simply a moron, which means that he or she isn’t necessarily a bad person in any way, but just missing essential, and fairly obvious, points.

A shit-heel, on the other hand, is just a nasty individual, at least in some way. I think one trait that they all have in common is selfishness.

One example of an SH–we can revert to this shorthand going forward–might be a person who will buy him or herself a ten-dollar cocktail, but begrudge a child a size of green vegetables, because it costs a couple bucks.

Another example of an SH might be the dude who was in the bar a couple of days ago complaining about how the gas prices have spiked because of Hurricane Harvey. I’m pretty sure the good folks of Houston, and the bad ones even, could care less if he has to pay a bit more for his petrol, that they’d gladly face such hardship over the real true hardships they are indeed facing, wondering where they’re going to live, fretting over when it will be OK to begin making funeral plans.

But maybe this dude wasn’t an SH; maybe he was just not thinking about what he said. In that case, he’d only be a DW. Either way, come on; people are dead and fighting to hold onto what’s left of lives…

That dude must not be as afraid as I am that he might have to be reminded what true hardship is. That possibility scares the crap out of me, and I try to count the blessings in even the most difficult situations. Just in case, you know. Don’t be found a’wantin’.

I love you for being here for me this morning; you help me to feel warmer and dryer as I look out at that cold and rainy day.

I hope you’re well, you beautiful people.