I hate to throw around highly technical terms, but... my desk computer went "kablooie" today. So I called IT support, who sent a technician right to my desk.
As he sat down to figure out what was wrong, he noticed my wall paper was a Japanese Olympic Judoka delivering a textbook uchimata to some also-ran from Italy. "So, how long have you been doing martial arts?"
"Oh, about 16 years straight. But I dabbled off and on for a few years before that," I said.
He launched into how a friend of his did "some kind of ninjutsu" and asked if I knew much about it.
"Yes, I have my black belt in that..." I said fearing the worst. Really, imagine the chances a computer nerd would know a ninja.
So for the next half hour or so, while he was sorting out my bits and bytes, he told me all about his kool-aid drinking friend. I mean how could I as a black belt not know that ninjas are the real deadly, because they punch, kick, throw, and master a zillion weapons! And -- whoa -- they tap into the energy of the universe through their fighting stances, which imitate the elements! (I think this was the part when the vein in my forehead started throbbing.)
What could I do? Tell him his friend is a gullible fool who needs to study his own art -- and its relationship with other arts far more deeply? I could've, but that wouldn't have been polite. No, not polite at all. And I needed my computer to work correctly...
There's really no moral to this story, no neat bowtie for the end. I just needed to share my moment of pain.