When I say things that offend the sensibilities of others, it is not my intention to offend ,,,,, usually.  The fact that it may offend is scarcely my responsibility ,,,,, usually.  Rather, it lies with the one (or many) taking offence.  My offhand comments are simply responses to what has already been said by others, a first reaction, a knee-jerk (or brain-jerk) response.  I find them funny or witty or erudite, sometimes even cutting, but not offensive.  They are perhaps things that I shouldn’t say aloud, but I’ve reached that stage in life where I feel entitled to speak, or at least mutter, my mind.  It’s a funny thing, my mind.  It works in mysterious ways.  It’s a bit quirky and as a result tends to run on, responding to the pronouncements of others with an understated sarcasm or a pointed barb.  My responses tend to be what I consider a logical follow-on to an illogical point.  It may be wit, it may be wisdom, sarcasm or a devastatingly (I think, I hope) bon mot.  But it usually does little to ease the situation, so I exercise some discretion. 

One of the privileges of being a curmudgeon is to be mildly outrageous, a bit ornery, cranky and cantankerous. I’ve tried seriously to curb that tendency, given my avowed policy of “thought before action”, but I find that reaction comes increasingly unbidden. It’s that cranky thing again.  

I give voice to that thing that generally goes unsaid.


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