It happens to the best of us.

He can insult me all he wants, I don't care. But when he starts calling me a liar, in such a condescending way, and insults my friends at the same time, well, if he wasn't in America I'd be tempted to play a good old fashioned game of Fisticuffs at dawn.

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Talking about books and that "anyone can have written it for any purpose they had in mind", the Books of Lenny pop into mind as being very relevant.