Righteous Fury

Sweeney Todd was a great movie. I think. For now. Five minutes ago I’d have disagreed. And five minutes later I’d probably be disgusted again. Not with the blood, mind you. Oh, spoiler alert: there’s a LOT of blood. I’m disgusted about the whole getting revenge and being satisfied with that justice bit. Yeah I know….coming from the guy who usually claims revenge is best served ten times colder. At least I don’t kill the hapless chumps.

I think I’m non-violent. Most people think I’m harmless, physically [or I assume that]. But trust me when I say I dream, more often than I’d like, of beating the living daylights out of some guy who truly deserves a punch or two. A silent nod to Steve Aylett’s Zero Approach Gun.
So far I’ve been pretty docile, if I say so myself. Considering the sleep-disturbing mouth-gritting morning-hurting dreams I get most days.

I even plan it out. This dude who doesn’t know better tries to rob me. I defuse the immediate threat: the knife. Stick it in his palm, stigmata-like. And then quickly but carefully, I take off my specs (400 bucks puhleese), and I put my bag gently on the grass [more often than not it carries my beloved Kahania] and I drag the guy to a less muddy place. Wouldn’t want to get the clothes dirty right? And then I proceed to punch his teeth in. And bash his nose out of shape [horribly] while I’m at it. The blood, the blood. Nosebleeds are surprisingly bloody; I should know. I’ve seen it.

I read up on self-defense articles now and then. NEVER put the thumb into the fist; grab the mounds of the fingers for solid punches. The punch should always be in line, never twisting lest I wanna walk away with a sprained wrist. No wild Indy punches (those are strictly reserved for the movies); short measure punches. I’m even tempted to bring in laws of physics. Instead of letting the punch carry on, remove the fist from contact at the earliest opportunity. The impulse will make him rue the day he was born. Yes. Yessssss.
But of course he must be deserving of the ass-kicking. Of ocurse I’m not going to beat anyone I see on a whim. Righteous fury is my fuel. That secret reserve of energy when you know you’re right but the only justice you’ll get is what you take with your own hands.

I haven’t finished. The kicks. If he’s down with all the punches, well and good. If not, a jab to the side, not the tummy mind you. A jab at the tummy just lets you see standing waves. The side is far more vulnerable, just below the ribcage. And one more just in case. And one he’s down,a kick in the face. No wait a STAMP in the face. Let not the nose see the light of day ever again. A couple more on the other side, now at the ribs. Try not to break anything though, the ribs can be the death of the organs they protect.

And yes. I understand a fist fight will hurt. i don’t like pain, who does? Don’t answer that. But there is a higher purpose. I can instantly gratify the initial pain and slink away, or I can stick out. Someone’s stamina will run out first and I won’t let that be mine. And then I will have my satisfaction.

That said, I don’t know if I can really do it. I don’t work out and I’m like average height. I’m not going to be able to overpower anyone with sheer mass definitely. But I think I have the tenacity.
And I don’t know why, even in my wildest imagination, I have to take off these stuff. Like, I’m angry man. I’m the hulk on a rampage [in dreams]. Why do I still give a shit about material stuff? But that sentiment extends even to real life; the few times I’ve been sorely tempted to throw a stary one have been dampened only by the fact that I’m carrying something or I’m wearing something I don’t want damaged. What does that mean? If I had no consequent responsibilities I’d just let loose?
And I have no experience. The one fist fight wasn’t really a fight, it was just me punching his head which kept ricocheting off the nearby wall. And I don’t know if he was really hurt or he just went to the doctor to get a one week break from training. Doesn’t matter. I’m not keeping count.

BUT coming back to the topic, I deplore Sweeney Todd’s methods. Killing’s too easy. That too with a knife. If he wanted revenge, he could’ve found some way to prove the bad guy’s guilt and used that against him. No it wasn’t just revenge Todd wanted; it was pleasure. Satisfaction and a sense of closure. A five second throat slit wasn’t going to give him that. Puhleese. As I said, revenge is best served ten times colder. Like the Count of Monte Cristo. Only more painful.


About this entry