My husband, that noted thinker, has a theory.
It was borne of experience (unlike so many of his theories). Once upon a time, he had a job that involved being out in the wilderness a lot. One summer, he was working in Northern Alberta, during blueberry season. He’d work, then pick a baseball cap full of blueberries. And repeat as necessary.
He realized that the smaller berries were way tastier than the big ones. His highly scientific explanation? Each blueberry has a limited number of “taste molecules”. The smaller the berry, the more concentrated the taste.
So one night, we’re sitting around with friends, and I’m making fun of explaining Owen’s Blueberry Theory, when I realize – the same theory applies to people. Only with humans, it’s not about sweetness.
The human body only has so many “meanness molecules”. The smaller the person, the more highly concentrated the meanness.
I come from a family of 4 kids. My youngest sister, Pam, is also the shortest. I’ve got 5 inches and 8 years on her, and I’d Never. Mess. With. Her. Even when we were kids, no one fucked with her. (Well, my other sister Sherri did. And she’s still got a scar from a Kleenex box on her face. Do you know how hard you have to hit someone with a Kleenex box to leave a scar?) Her meanness was concentrated, all right.
This morning, I come across this article about Gary Coleman.
The little dude is upset about a choice made by his agent. So upset, that his reaction is perfectly reasonable – he’s just threatening to punch the guy in the face. Par for the course for a guy who has been in and out of court on assault charges for the past decade. Pure concentrated meanness.
Remind me never to fuck with Mickey Rooney.
(photo from here)