tolerance, inc.

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Last night I learned something during a conversation with a bunch of 20-somethings. Not from them, of course. Perish the thought.

They were discussing the assholes in their lives. Friends, family, neighbors. I listened as they compared how they handle them. And that's when I realized a central truth of my life.

"I don't deal with assholes unless I'm paid to do so," I said.

Friends? Family? Neighbors? Please. I'm like the Terminator, ripping off malfunctioning body parts, tossing them aside, and moving forward without so much as glancing at it twitching on the ground. But if these same assholes paid me? Sure, asshole, let's hang out. I already do that for a living.