Bastards Invited

John Taylor raises both hands and admits that he is a contender for Tool of the Year.

 

This is a guest post from a good friend, John Taylor, A.K.A. The Daddy Yo Dude. I like what he has to say and I hope you do too.

 

“Come all you losers, ye bastards and  cheats. Vagrants and barflies down on the streets. There’s paths to salvation, vindication awaits. We’re marching on these Broadway streets tonight.” – Bastards on Parade by Dropkick Murphys

Raise your hand if you have ever done something to hurt someone close to you… Now raise both hands if you have done it recent enough for it to still be stinging… Now that both your hands are up, allow me to pick your pockets. If you’re like me, it totally wouldn’t surprise you if being pickpocketed was an event to occur today.

I know a thing or two about what it’s like to be a major fuckup. Some might even argue that I should win or be a close runner up for the Tool of the Year award this year. I’m not going to go into detail about it because A) That’s not where this post is going. B) I’m honestly just sick of even talking about it. No, this post shall be a tale of of self-realization and appreciation in a time of shitty self-esteem.

A good friend once told me that no matter what, there are always good truths about ourselves to be realized. For examples: I’m not the same guy I was when I fucked up. I am stronger in my soul and my heart than I was before. I’m a halfway decent dad, a badass in the kitchen, and you can’t touch my useless knowledge base.

I feel better already.

It’s easy to let the words of others drag us down, especially when those words come from people we have wronged. Most of the time I have found that I must allow myself to feel the anger, or the hurt, that I have caused someone. It’s only fair for me to shut my face at times and just listen and try my best to understand. It’s also way too easy to start believing that the things we hear are the only things true about ourselves. Somewhere in there, we start losing part of what it means to be human.

This is because we begin to feel, or are made to feel, like our own feelings no longer matter. We become dehumanized in a way. What have I learned about this situation? It is a shitty way to live, and despite the things I may have done in my life, the least I deserve is to still be allowed to be a fucking human being.

Do know where I’m coming from? Our feelings at times may not make sense to other parties, but we are human, therefore allowed these feelings, and allowed to properly deal with them, process them, and decide what we do with them. No matter what, we are human beings.

Are you someone who raised both hands earlier and allowed me to easily pilfer your wallet? If you are, then allow me to invite you to the bar tonight (especially now that I have your money). Because tonight… tonight we celebrate ourselves for a change. Tonight we can stop being cheats, and bastards, tools, and assholes. We can be human. We can allow ourselves to believe that there is still a reason to celebrate ourselves. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it doesn’t matter who all is involved. If you are feeling like a douchebag, then you are invited. There is no reason that we can’t all just feel human for a night, even if our kind are the only ones to show up. We can be human together. Drunk human at that.

To adapt the lyrics above and close out this post:

“Come all you losers, ye bastards and cheats. Come to the pub cause the drinks are on me. We’ll slam back some cold ones, and forget about attitudes. Just tell the bartender that this one is on The Dude.”

 

John Taylor is a semi-retired blogger and a damn fine cook.  He always brings it from the heart and says it like it is. You can follow him on Twitter @TheDaddyYoDude 

 

Photo of friends in bar courtesy of Shutterstock.

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About J.R. Reed

J.R is a full-time single dad attempting to raise a 14-year-old daughter without providing too many stories to relay to her future therapist. He is also the creator of the popular blog, Sex and the SIngle Dad. A former radio talk show host and color commentator, he’s also an off-the-hook cook, a bit of an argyle-loving dork and has a word in Urban Dictionary. J.R. has a serious guacamole addiction and a torta dealer named Danny.

Comments

  1. Great post John. Nice to see you writing.

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