I’m not into fighting.  I’m not afraid of it; a beating will either kill me, in which case I have other things besides the pain to worry about, or it won’t, in which case I’ll heal.  Pain’s not a big deal.  But I don’t go looking for it, either; the only time that I will get physical these days is if I need to break up a fight at Bailey’s or back up one of my friends (again, at Bailey’s – who says that bars aren’t good influence?).

Lately, though, I’ve started thinking that a good beatdown would make me feel better.  Not just on anyone; the common lowlife shitheels that wind their ways through the bar on a nightly basis aren’t really worth it (outside of the occasional spineless chump that thinks hitting women is impressive). In fact, most of these guys are out looking for a fight — win or lose, it makes their night, to blow off some steamed testosterone, to have some bruises and cuts to show off the next day while they tell some pumped up and largely fabricated story about how manly they had to get the night before.

If you’re looking for it, I say, go find it elsewhere.  Not my bag, though I do know a few guys who will be more than happy to supply you with the props for redneck storyhour if you’d like some recommendations.

The people I’m thinking of are easy targets, sure. Not one of them could stand up to a good punch, much less a serious thrashing.  But then, that sort of adds to the attraction for me.  I never said I got rid of all the effects of being bullied in elementary school, after all…

• ANN COULTER In some ways, I really think that this would be better served by saying “anti-liberal conservatives,” but damn it, there are a lot of those fuckers out there.  You know the ones I’m talking about — if you’re liberal (which is to say, if you don’t believe exactly like they do — that Bush is infallible, that the Christian God is the only god, that foreigners are stupid and silly, and that Creationism is the highest truth), then you’re shit.  They never come out in so many words, but it’s there.  And the worst part is the bullying tone in their voice.  The best part is that they hide behind anonymity, and you know that most of them would never have the balls to voice such opinions (and certainly not in such blunt terms) in public.

  But since it would be far too time consuming to find each and every one of them, not to mention tiring, let’s just drag old Horseface out into some public square and give her a few heel-thrusts into the throat, eh?  Think of the pay-per-view revenues — we could probably make a huge dent in the deficit that Bush has helped reinvigorate.

• Celebrities drunk on power I’m not entirely sure who would be a good spokesperson for this category, but since it’s much smaller, we could probably make a weekend out of it.  For reference, though, let’s use Tom Cruise.  Don’t get me wrong: this little soiree should include musicians, athletes, etc.  But Tom’s got the limelight; if you’re too hung up on Tiny Tom, substitute Lindsay “If You’d Put Stuff In the Other Hole In Your Head, You Might Be Attractive Again” Lohan or Paris Hilton.  And it’s not superstars in the spotlight that bother me — Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Aniston, Shaq — hell, even Madonna or Britney Spears.  Sure, we’re all sick of hearing about them (but if we were all sick of them, US WEEKLY wouldn’t sell so many copies, would they?), but they’re innocuous enough, if a little weird.  But do you really need to act like the rest of the world is beneath you because you’ve got money and are recognized?

  So many of these people would like us to believe that the perils of fame and fortune were thrust upon them without warning, that paparazzi and tabloids and general interest in the lives of the rich and famous started with their rise to the top.  And maybe they really had no clue what it would be like — fucking morons, then.  Otherwise, you have money enough to buy all that happiness you dreamed of; this is the price you pay.  Get over it. And by the way, you can lose it all, and be right back with us in the blink of an eye; don’t think that if you piss on us while you’re up at the top that we’re going to forgive and forget just because you once made popcorn movies or hit homeruns.

  The more I think about it, it might be fun to punch Lohan or Hilton in the throat, but how disappointing would it be for one punch to be all you get before the wind blew those shredded boxkites to the hills?

• You know, it’s not just the extreme right bloggers that get me, the more I think about it.  It’s everyone that gets out there and voices anger and hatred behind some veil of anonymity.  I will say this for Coulter: at least she’s willing to stand behind her words, no matter how moronic and misguidedly hateful they may be.  Underneath the river of blogs is the biggest sign of the damage that the Internet has done to communication between humans: the masks that we can hide behind allow us to spew all sorts of venom that I’d bet 95% of us would never vomit forth if we had to have our names and faces associated with the thoughts.

  I think we should all have to be accountable for our words.  But in the meantime, I think all the anonymously bitter and vicious bloggers out there — and the forum trolls, too, because they are the forefathers of the masked blog assholes — should be taken to the kitchen and pounded in the face with iron skillets for a while.

Why am I so angry today?  Really, no different than any other day.  I make the mistake of reading things that I shouldn’t — Coulter interviews, puff pieces on the latest celebristar feuds and babble, blogs by people whose writing style indicates much more intelligence than their writing substance. And I know I should stop, but I just can’t.  Truth be told, I think I like getting a little fired up.  If nothing else, it makes my weekends in the bar a little easier.