I admit it.

There are holes in my education. I admit it. There are things that I’ll just never figure out. The cultural benefits of vacuuming. How to fold a fitted sheet. The simple, predictable cause-and-effect between Friday night pizza and Saturday morning heartburn. People who cut old tires in half, paint them white, and use them to decorate their lawn. The theological underpinnings served by the Virgin Mary’s image appearing on a Waffle House griddle. Geraldo Rivera’s appeal. Okra. Tact.

That’s a big one, tact. There is a time and a place for sarcasm. I know that; we all know that. Unfortunately, I broadly define the time as “whenever I’m awake” and the place as “on or near Earth.”

Not long ago, during one of those psychotic “Together We Can Do Anything” motivational meetings, the speaker felt the need to chide the audience with “Remember – there is no ‘I’ in the word team, is there?”
Fully (though differently) motivated, I chimed in. “Agreed. There is no ‘I’ in team. On the other hand, ‘u’ is all over the place in ‘Shut up, you putz.'”
And then he hit me.

At a recent jobs fair, I mentioned to the manager of a local radio station the delicious irony underlying the fact that they were advertising products, on their radio station, for the hard-of-hearing.
And then he hit me.

One day, in my usual rush to the grocery, I finally ran out of luck and was pulled for speeding. The officer asked, “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
I said, “I do! I know exactly how fast I was going! What do I win?”
And then he hit me.

A local TV station was discussing the upcoming switch to digital TV, and the reporter suggested that anyone still using rabbit-ear antennas should visit their website for more info.
I ran into the reporter in town and pointed out, “Look, if someone out there is still using rabbit-ear antennas, they’ve never HEARD of a website.”
And then she hit me.

During a weekend event, sponsored by yet another cash-flush cell phone provider, I had to challenge the security guard manning the entry gate. “Are you kidding me? I can’t take my cell phone in to an event sponsored by a cell phone company?”
And then he hit me.

One night, I was leaving the local Fine Arts Center after a performance by the symphony. As I waited to cross at the corner, a throbbing carful of party-monsters idled at the light. I’m guessing, of course, but based on the decibel level, I think they may have kidnapped the tympani section and thrown them in the trunk, but forgot to bind their hands.
One passenger lurched out the window and slur-yelled, “Yo, Popsh. How wush the shymphony?”
I yelled back. “It was outstanding. How was the unemployment office?”
And then he hit me.

And then my internet service went down, so I called Tech Support. Some sixty minutes later, after deftly navigating the tech support phone maze, I actually acquired an actual human being, actually named Tekh Gai, who sounded like he might be located in a country that has elephants. After describing my problem – my internet service was down – Tekh Gai told me that I could download a fix by visiting their website.

Sigh.

I cleverly pointed out that, given the fact that my internet service was down, visiting their website was not among my immediately available options. Tekh Gai then told me that I should call a different phone number. I then described, to Tekh Gai, one of my great hopes, which centered around Tekh Gai engaging in several biologically-improbable things.
And Tekh Gai put me on hold, contacted my local branch office, scheduled an on-site appointment, their local representative drove over to my house, and then he hit me.

I just have to face the truth. I’ll never learn. I was pondering this sobering news as I pulled in to the local burger parlor. At the counter, I ordered a burger. And fries. I should have seen it coming.
“Do you want fries with that?”

And then I hit him.