Respect My Authority! Or, Maybe My Personhood?


“I fight authority, authority always wins” – John Cougar Mellencamp

Sometimes people use "respect" to mean "treating someone like a person" and sometimes they use "respect" to mean "treating someone like an authority". And sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say "if you don't respect me, I won't respect you" and they mean "if you don't treat me like an authority, I won't treat you like a person". And they think they are being fair but they aren't, and it's not okay. 
Sometimes people use “respect” to mean “treating someone like a person” and sometimes they use “respect” to mean “treating someone like an authority”. And sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say “if you don’t respect me, I won’t respect you” and they mean “if you don’t treat me like an authority, I won’t treat you like a person”. And they think they are being fair but they aren’t, and it’s not okay.
Admit it. You're not like the others. And that's not just okay, it's fucking beautiful.
Admit it. You’re not like the others. And that’s not just okay, it’s fucking beautiful.
You're dry humping my last nerve.
You’re dry humping my last nerve.


A Limerick: Oh, it doesn’t look like a limerick to you? Try this:

A dozen, a gross and a score

Plus three times the square root of four

Divided by seven

Plus five times eleven

Is nine squared and not a bit more.

So what do I like to do to wind down and relax after a hard day of fighting authority? A nice Guinness and some music always tames the beast for me. Won’t you play a little tune and sing a song of heroic deeds or love and loss with me? Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir (Time is a good story teller.) In days of old, the best place at the fire was reserved for the scéalaí ya know. 😉

To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing

Now all the truth is out,

Be secret and take defeat

From any brazen throat,

For how can you compete,

Being honour bred, with one

Who, were it proved he lies,

Were neither shamed in his own

Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?

Bred to a harder thing

Than Triumph, turn away

And like a laughing string

Whereon mad fingers play

Amid a place of stone,

Be secret and exult,

Because of all things known

That is most difficult.

– W B Yeats


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