Memory Gongs
A few nights ago, I recalled a memory that I hadn't thought about in quite sometime: when I was 7 or so, I stole a 20 dollar bill out of my friend's piggybank. While lying awake in bed, I felt incommensurately guilty about my crime and started probing my past for other similar acts. The time I got caught in elementary school taking money out of my mom's purse because I thought she owed it to me for some now forgotten rationalization. Or the time I tried to pocket a shiny silver dollar coin my dad showed me from our family safe. I started to have a crisis of conscience: was I suppressing from myself a secret history of petty larceny?
Luckily the next day, before I had time to let the memory take on St. Augustine-like dimensions, I came across a message board thread with people confessing to stealing without any signs of remorse.
There is nothing quite like the internet to make you feel better about yourself.
And simultaneously worse about humanity.
Luckily the next day, before I had time to let the memory take on St. Augustine-like dimensions, I came across a message board thread with people confessing to stealing without any signs of remorse.
There is nothing quite like the internet to make you feel better about yourself.
And simultaneously worse about humanity.
posted by d l wright at 5/18/2011 09:12:00 PM
3 Comments:
It was my piggybank, wasn't it?! You monster.
I only stole you V-card.
I was trying to think of something out of and out bad that I did as a kid. There were a few ethically questionable things.
For example, I once ordered a Killer Instinct keychain from Nintendo. They, for some reason, sent me two. I sold the second one to Jack Johnson for five dollars rather than calling them and telling them about their mistake.
But, overall, I never put liquor store tills or Ben's virtues at risk.
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