I was a fifth grader walking home from school when suddenly an older boy grabbed my cap and began flipping it in the air, taunting me all the while. "Hey," said his companion, "don't bother the kid. Let's give him back his hat." He took the cap from his friend and held it in front of me. But when I reached out to get it, he slammed his other hand into my stomach, making me double over. The twosome, it turned out, was a well-practiced tag team of bullies, who had pulled that cruel trick perhaps dozens of times. After that incident, it took a while before I was again able to trust my fellow man, or at least my fellow boy.
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When we grow up and have jobs and relationships, all but the fortunate few experience a lot more pain than the above-mentioned punch in the solar plexus. The inflicter of that pain doesn't even have to make a fist and, in fact, may be smiling as he or she delivers the figurative wallop. When that happens, think of the lyrics of "The Mary Ellen Carter," a song that on the surface is about saving a sunken boat:
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling b**tards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
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Now that Robert McNamara is dead, it will be extremely hard to find an American male with his hair parted in the middle.
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"Hawaii Five-0" had the greatest TV theme music ever.
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Aretha Franklin has grown quite big, but her voice remains even bigger.
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Grover has always been my favorite "Sesame Street" character. In fact, I do a pretty fair imitation of him.
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