Damn kids

I yelled at a kid today. Considering that I work in education, that’s not such a core shaking revelation. However, this was outside that context. I was coming home. It was around four o’clock, so the middle schools had released and the buses were depositing their precious cargo on the streets. I was stopped at the light waiting for a left turn signal. I was watching the minor tableau, also to my left. They seemed to be average kids; little punk ass snotty adolescents. The one little white boy appeared to be having some kind of problem: He was grabbing his crotch like he was carrying the world repository of jock-itch in his baggy jeans. My windows were down (my car’s air is broken) and I was sorely tempted to yell something, just because I could. Then this little bitch starts to cross the street against the light. My light. Walking like he thinks black males walk, still jiggling up his crotch. I couldn’t help it; as I reached the azimuth of my turn, putting me as close to him as I will ever be, it slipped out: “Get some Gold Bond!” I yelled. He yelled something back, probably calling me a fucker or a fag or whatever the cool insult is these days. It didn’t bother me; kids lost their ability to shock me a long time ago.