I got a few useful chunks from my father. Here's one: Somebody who kills a bunch of people? You can be friends with him. But somebody who suddenly kills his wife after 35 years of happy marriage, now that guy watch out for.
I always liked this way of thinking. And I've been slow-boiling a corollary, which I've finally managed to articulate:
There's no reason to be scared of a hitman. A hitman is as unlikely to randomly kill you as an accountant is to randomly do your taxes.
I once described my dad's breakthrough idea, empowering him to paint despite having no facility for colors. That was an even better chunk.
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1 comment:
JL, this one touched me, and not only because I had a hit man or two in my family tree. I once was fond of a rottweiler whose street-savvy owner attacked trained, not so he would attack, but so he would only attack the person designated, and no one else. Not at all sure there's any connection, but your post brought Bruno (who brought me the last wet sock fifty years ago) prominently to mind, so thanks.
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