See that big, ugly, swirling, sweaty, tacky mass of pushing and pulling? No style. No grace. No class. Ugh. Those people aren't going to listen to us and we certainly don't want to hear anything they have to say. Even the worst supervillians we deal with have an element of elan that is utterly lacking in these crude chotchkie clutchers.
Even the horrible, disgusting man-toddler Henri Petit at least knows how to rock a sweater vest. |
Simply put, we're not above settling disputes as long as they're classy.
Here we are (note the neutral corner) settling a debate between a husband and wife over who should clean the post-dinner dishes. It was our idea for the lady to remain seated as she might grow weary and to wear gloves, so as to protect her manicure. She lost. Badly.
These two gentlemen nearly came to blows over which was the bigger anachronism, the bicycles parked nearby or everything about the woman yelling at them. We were able to convince them, with surprisngly little effort, that they had far more in common than they did in dispute. They're still married today. Congratulations, Fred and Walter!
Lastly, here we are simulating fisticuffs for the benefit of a local chapter of "We Solve All Of Our Problems With Guns!" (W.S.A.O.O.P.W.G), opening their minds to the possibility of settling certain conflicts in a slightly less-fatal manner. It looks like Michael is restraining Jeff so I can land an uncontested haymaker. However, this is actually a split second before everything I ate for a week tasted like Jeff's left shoe.
I'm sure my colleagues would be delighted to share examples of other disputes where we were either directly involved in the resolution of or had no intention whatsoever of getting involved at all.
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