When asked what in life is unavoidable, the average person will reply, “death and taxes.”  Almost.  The real answer is, “death, taxes, and rage.” Rage is good.  Rage is healthy.  If you insist on ignoring or internalizing your rage, it will eventually kill you. You’ll be dispatched by a biliousness that will take you out like you’ve been sucking the acid out of a Duracell. New York is a city that is in touch with its rage. Right or wrong, we’re known for it.  I blame Dustin Hoffman’s improvised, “I’m walking here!” as part of the problem.  Nonetheless, we know we’ve got to let the cranky out.

Annoyed and Overheard:

“Why do people need ass cheeks coming out of shorts? Just wear your underwear already!”

— Effy’s Café, 100th Street and Lexington Avenue

“You’re a douchebag. You can’t change it.  It’s in your DNA. Live with it. It’s like an alcoholic is always an alcoholic. Know what I mean?”

— Bros outside Hi-Fi, 11th Street & Avenue A

“What a great life to be stupid.”

— Older woman to no one in particular, EJ’s Luncheonette 73rd Street and Third Avenue

“I was too busy being fascinated to be outraged.”

— Woman to female friend on 6 Train

“I’m sorry I dragged you out of work.:

“It’s fine. I was in a rage.

“Oooh! I love a good rage!”

— The Norwood Club, 14th Street and Eighth Avenue

“Look, it’s Anal August!”

“Every day is sundae at Carvel.”

— A wry couple passing an advertisement in the window of a sex shop

“Last night Ben came over and we stayed up all week.”

— A tired Hipster on 3rd street


About Author

Lawyer, literary agent, book packager, film producer, writer, New Yorker. Likes long walks on the beach and little dogs. Hates mean people and when the pharmacy runs out of Klonopin.

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