LIKE FLORIDA ORANGE JUICE…

I posted the following: Self-hate can be a logical progression. To wit: Yesterday I met a post-stroke man. I introduced myself. He said, “That’s my granddaughter’s name.” I replied, “Does she have a twisted sense of humor too?” He stared at me blankly. Self-hate. It isn’t just for breakfast anymore.

Comments indicated that I hadn’t adequately expressed myself, as they suggested that humor was subjective and I had nothing to worry about. That wasn’t the point I was trying to make.

My rote shtick failed to allow me to quickly-enough acknowledge that someone with a compromised thought process shouldn’t be fed easy-to-misinterpret attempts at humor which, ultimately, made him feel as if he wasn’t understanding something he should have and feeling less-than.

More than most, I know better, and that should always be primary in my mind. I blew it.

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