I learned what was wrong and bad in the P S 217 schoolyard. At our corner of the world, where Coney Island Avenue crossed Newkirk, the guy at the bottom of the moral barrel was the "sore loser." He was the guy who, when he missed an easy layup, always claimed, against the evidence, that he had been fouled. And when he lost a game, he picked up his basketball and took it home -- in order to prevent the rest of us from continuing to play. He was always whining, always complaining, always wronged. An unpleasant member of the community, disliked by most, hated by some, loathed by a few. A disruptive presence, only tolerated because he was rich enough to own the basketball or the baseball bat.
No question but that the greatest sore loser in the history of the planet is our former president. What a pathetic whiner! He lost fair and square but he can't admit it, so instead he claims a nonexistent foul, or a series of fouls. He's out to change the rules to give himself the advantage. And he's willing to mess up the entire game if he doesn't get his way.
He wouldn't have gotten the least smidgeon of respect in 217 schoolyard.
What's wrong with the people who still support him? What are they thinking? How come they can't recognize him for what he is?
Sore Loser.
He is the kind of person who will never respond to words but might respond to a fist. Several fists. All aimed at his mouth. All designed to separate his gums from his teeth so that the air pierces his nerves every time he inhales.
Posted by: Don Z. Block | October 06, 2021 at 06:41 AM