My daughter Lemurita went to a birthday party of a boy – a critter with XY chromosome pairing, who is by definition my sworn enemy.
She said it was a riot.
“Wait! Riots are a blast!”
“It was not a riot-riot, just a bunch of kids fighting over…”
“No, riots are fun – the thrown glass the pitched bricks, the burning cars and broken windows, the burning tires… and if one is really lucky, flipped cars. And then the police coming in to beat heads and knock skulls. Man is a good riot where it is at.”
“I suppose you’ll tell me that you and your little friend who is a boy (and whom I must treat as an enemy regardless of how nice he seems) are fast friends and that he is a wonderful boy. Well, that may even be true, but he is the enemy. Men in my family have been making hell the lives of young men chasing after the women in our family a living hell. How long util we stop doing so? Until there is no doubt that we are all cray enough to wipe him out and put the body where no one would ever find him.
We do it out of love.