Date: Thu, 7 Aug 1997 15:01:32 -0500 From: Phanny Subject: SUB: CONTEST: MAN Man Strip a man of his achievements, put him through sands of hourglass strain where only underdogs go unpunished. Then hold his smoking carcass before a mirror. Cracked perfection is what he'll see, climbing down into his own large pores through that magnifying glass. Won't stomach what he finds there. I wanted to scream at them. Picture your own damn selves up there on that pedestal, blown to bits, I'd rage. Jimmy Carter, I swear to God, that's who he reminded me of at first. Decent by upbringing. And ignorance, maybe. 'Course he looked more like the Marlborough Man, thank God. No matter. Blaming and judging each other is legal and all. But it left my man stripped of all but numb feelings, strapped right onto the death of his own former self. That's right when he did it, in front of his so-called friends. He bought that handgun. I found it yesterday, tucked in between his wallet and his red, greasy rag in the door of his pickup truck. Loaded. Take that guy in the white hat, scratch that fragile surface, and civilized man isn't what you'll find.