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the problem of addictive rage - by Elissa Altman

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In the right situation, I could become enraged at almost anything: our horrible cable company; the supermarket butcher when I unwrapped the pork chops and they stank of rotten meat slime; the post office worker across town who engages customers in long conversations and ignores the growing line of people slithering out the door; our insurance company for keeping me on hold for two hours to approve an MRI for which I contractually do not need approval; the rude front of house person who put me and my wife at a makeshift table by the bathroom door rather than have people older than twenty-five sitting in the empty dining room; the neanderthals teeing off behind us, who don’t love it when one of us helpless ladies drives 250 yards to the green; my mother, for spending the grocery money we give her on thirty-one tubes of lipstick, despite the fact that she never goes out. Hell hath no fury. Years ago, in my heavy drinking, food-writer days — by heavy I mean a stiff pre-dinner cocktail (Man

the problem of addictive rage On Using Dopamine to Fuel Hatred Elissa Altman Jan 10, 2024 ∙ Paid 242 58 37 Share I have an admission to make; I have never made it before, at least not publicly. I used to be addicted to my anger. In the right situation, I could become enraged at almost anything: our horrible cable company; the supermarket butcher when I unwrapped the pork chops and they stank of rotten meat slime; the post office worker across town who engages custom… Continue reading this post for free, courtesy of Elissa Altman. Claim my free post Or purchase a paid subscription.

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