You're a poopyhead!

I tend to get into arguments. Often. Always have. Even when I was a skinny little kid. It's not a smart thing to do when you are a skinny little kid. It makes me wonder how I managed to avoid physical altercations growing up. I didn't avoid them all, of course, but I can only remember a few. Less than a handful. And those were because I lost control. No, it wasn't ever me who threw the first punch. Even if that is a good tactic. I would say that my ability, if I kept my wits about me, to defuse the situation is what kept the physical fighting to a minimum. I somehow sensed when and how to ease the tensions.

I bring this up because of the events of the past week. There is a lot of heated debate over, well, heated debate. And, I am only a bit ashamed to say, I have been dragged down into that swamp. Because, as I said, I like to argue.

There is out there in the universe we call the Internet a number of places where one can comment. On blogs like this and also on columns written for newspapers. These comments often lead to public debates which more often than not would turn into fistfights if the people were within physical reach of each other.

What bothers me about this latest round of commentary altercations is the way that each side is blaming the other for the meanness, the crassness, the excessive level of animosity and name-calling. Sure, that's happened in the past, It also happened (often) in our childhoods.
"You're a poopyhead!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"You're the poopyhead"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
... and so on until an adult grabs both by the ears or they end up rolling around on the ground trying to hurt and avoid being hurt.

Even after the fight is over, even after the tears are gone, each will still blame the other, each will still think the other started it.

I suppose we have a long way to go before we grow up.