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humanity. Some would rather leave humanity alone, which begs the question: Which is the bigger sin, rage or fear? The adage goes “evil triumphs when good men doing nothing.” Why would a good man do nothing to help the world? Is it a better thing to fear the unknown or to use righteous fire to fight it?
    Here is an odd posit: What is bravery, really, but the potent combination of rage and fear? What is valor but being so angry and scared you do the unthinkable? You see, anger permeates society; when the niceties give way, we are all just one fight-orflight away from eating each other. Can we get along with angry people? Of course we can—we do it every day. Can we get along
without being angry? Absolutely not. It is not in our DNA to coexist peaceably. We can “play” nice, but we will never be fully cooled off enough. So how can we keep this in the “deadly sin” pile? Forget what the idealists and the hippies say; rage is here to stay.
    This is fairly personal for me because I have always been angry. I think I gave up being cheery and gleeful when I was nine. As soon as my world turned upside down, it was over for me. So I suffered through poverty, humiliation, molestation, and abuse for most of my teens. And with every taunt, my anger grew. With every strike, my mind raced toward a judgment day that would have my aggression pouring through every street in every country all over the world. I wanted karma to drive stakes into the dark hearts that kept me bitter most of my adult life. I remember it all: I remember leaving school covered in food because all the bullies threw their trays at me. I remember memorizing all of the safe routes home because countless pricks with nothing better to do might jump me at any moment. I remember the prank calls and the toilet paper in my trees and the feeling that I would never ever be safe. I remember wanting to cry every morning before I left for school. I remember the shame and the bruises. I remember coming home to a house that wasn’t safe either.
    Now I remember all of their names.
    I know what they do and what their lives are like: horrible holes of ignorance and banality morning noon and night. And because I am still angry—and always will be—I think of how those knuckle-dragging mouth breathers ended up.
    And I smile.
    I may never let go of my wrath, my anger, but I will always have the last laugh.

    Is that bad? The Germans called that feeling schadenfreude , which means “pleasure derived from someone else’s failure.” Is it wrong to be ecstatic because the fucking bullies from my childhood turned into bigger pieces of shit than I ever could have imagined, and they are floundering in lives that I would not wipe my ass with?
    I guess to some people, it would be. Do I think so? Fuck no.
    Is it a sin? Of course not.
    It is damn near the definition of being human to be happy when your enemies eat a bigger helping of life’s shit than your own portion. How else can we get through days that are quite clearly the “worst we have ever experienced”? There will always be a yardstick for our achievements, and it will never be tall enough. And we will always be angry about it.
    But can we let go of the bitterness?
    That is the terrible and guilty taste that anger leaves in your mouth when you have finally vented, and even though you may have felt the reciprocity, the bitterness lingers. You see I have been able to move on. I have been able to release, to tap the valve of hatred and turn it into something positive. But the bitterness circles around me like cigarette smoke. Maybe it will never go away. It is okay though—it takes a journey to know where you are.
    Let’s talk about something awesome, like mindless wish killing.
    Now before you get all weird and beatnik on me, this is a harvested practice that has gone on for years. Everyone has angrily wished death on total strangers at least a hundred times in their