I'm A Lover Not A Fighter (And By Lover I Mean Daydreamer And By Fighter I Mean I Really Am Definitely Not A Fighter)

I was reading the post The Road To Juvenile Delinquency Part I: The Drunk White Guy Encounter - and not only am I curious to see how it turns on out - but I also think it's an important read on race, racism, and what the outcomes can be.

On a lighter note I was thinking to myself that I really am a lover and not a fighter -- I'm not going to say that I can't protect myself or people that might be with me though because there was this one time when I thought I was going to get eaten by a pack of small rabid kittens but I totally manned up and showed them who the king lion was and while sure you can say that opening up a bag of Friskies wasn't actually fighting and that protecting myself from kittens wasn't that manly, I say screw you because those were some mean looking MF kittens and I'm pretty sure they would have eaten my big toe right off if I wouldn't have had that Whitefish and Tuna in my back pocket -- because if nothing else I'm prepared.