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Regret

When I was a kid I was always puzzled by the expression “you’ll live to regret this”. It’s the kind of curse reserved for mustachioed villains in aviator caps, which makes it odd enough, but the thought that I’d live to regret something always struck me as a non-threat. Regret didn’t seem like a real big problem to my six-year-old brain as I munched on my corn flakes — it was something typically lasting about five minutes after breaking a vase, whereas death was an infinitely more potent intimidator.

“So I’ll live to regret it? No killing or maiming? One day I’ll just look back and think ‘well damn, those were a regrettable bunch of circumstances’ and your vengeance will be had?”

Bad guys. I tell ya, they don’t make ‘em like they used to.


Speechless

Two emails, the first at 9:37…

Greetings. Just stumbled across yer blog and was wondering if you are the same Chris Clark who once lived in Park Slop, wrote the Market Bytes column and shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

If not, forget I said anything.

The second, three minutes later…

Uh…never mind. You may think it’s good to be decaffeinated but I shouldn’t be allowed to send messages before my ninth cup. Sorry to bug ya.

Well, he was right about the shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die, but the rest of it makes no sense to me.