("The Trauma of the Pink Shirt")
Road rage,
especially during a moment of unintended and unwanted stasis, is a male
dominated activity. This testosterone fueled idiocy relies on a total
abandonment of rational thought as its predicate. I know as I count
myself as one among millions who has on occasion left my brain in
reverse and entered this arena (while planted firmly in the "safety" of
my vehicle).
Inserting a pink shirted male into the middle of this
"conversation" is undoubtedly going to be a trigger for some pointed
observations. "Swearing like a man" at someone who is showing a softer,
more compassionate sense of understanding of the beauty of the color
spectrum is wholly consistent with the neanderthal like qualities of one
who has turned off the testosterone control sign. And what better way
to demean and diminish your opponent than with an impressive string of
sexually laden damaging phrases and images, for sex and power can be a
fully intertwined couple.
While the author's wife and friend found his unsuccessful
insertion into this fray uncontrollably funny, it is clearly better not
to try to enter into a gentlemanly debate in these circumstances. For
the raging bull in the red sports car, the pink shirt is an invitation
to try to gore and dismember, with words if not fists.
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