Have you ever had a nemesis? I have. I’ve had many nemeses.

Almost all of my nemeses (it is “nemeses,” I looked it up, don’t bother) came during college. You know the kid who would sit in front of every lecture and makes dumb jokes to the professor and asks stupid questions and occasionally look around the classroom with his big, punchable smile? He was my nemesis.

I don’t think any of my nemeses ever knew they were my nemeses. They didn’t even know my name because I never actually confronted one. I just sat there and glared and stewed.

That all changed the day I met Vincent.

I first came across Vincent on July 3. I remember the day because it was the day before a holiday weekend — always a highly underrated day. The day before the holiday weekend is great because no work ever gets done, everybody is happy, you sometimes get to sneak out of work early, and most importantly, the roads are empty.

So you can imagine my dismay when I ran right into a traffic jam on my way home from work. And this wasn’t just any traffic jam — cars were stopped for miiiiiiles. It was worse than a snowstorm. As I crept along the highway, I kept looking for the accident. But there were no flashing lights, no police and no report on the radio.

Finally, after 25 minutes, I saw the entire reason for the holdup.

Two idiots standing on a bridge holding “Impeach Obama” signs.

I am all for standing up to The Man, but it was difficult for me to imagine the series of events that would have to occur for two hastily constructed cardboard signs over a random freeway in Northeast Ohio to bring about the first ever impeachment to succeed in the removal of the President of the United States of America (Nixon resigned before he could get impeached, I looked it up, don’t bother). I was hot and bothered, but after 10 minutes, I forgot all about it.

Until the following Thursday.

The following Thursday, traffic was even worse. I started wondering about an accident again before remembering the chuckleheads with the signs. Sure enough, a half hour later, there they were. Joined by two more idiots. They had started a movement, and even from 30 feet below, I could see they were more than proud of themselves.

When I got home, Deserae asked the wrong question.

“Why are you late?”

“I’LL TELL YOU WHY I’M LATE!”

After my 10-minute rant, I started sleuthing on the computer. I found a Facebook page for the Ohio chapter of “Overpass for Obama’s Impeachment.” Then I found the page’s administrator – a gentleman named Vincent.

A gentleman who would become my nemesis.

Over the next week, I became obsessed with Vincent. I found his pictures. I read every page of his home tiling business’s website. I constantly refreshed his Facebook page.

From what I could gather, Vincent had issues with:

• President Obama (obvs)
• Police
• The IRS
• Blacks
• Mexicans
• Friends
• Family

He posted offensive things. He posted beyond offensive things.

Then he posted this: “Just sitting here wishing the KKK WOULD DO THEIR JOB ALREADY!!!!”

Vincent was a horrible person.

That week, I fantasized about ways I could bring him to financial, emotional and mental ruin. Like all of my past nemeses, those plans stayed in my head.

That all changed the following Thursday when I found myself in traffic again.

When I got home, I walked right past Deserae.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’M NOT HUNGRY!!!”

I stomped into the living room and picked up my weapon of choice – the keyboard. As a writer and a former salesperson, I feel like I am above average at writing words that change people’s minds. So I sat for a half hour crafting my finest work – not an angry diatribe, but rather a thoughtful appeal to a fellow human being.

This is what I wrote:

After I clicked send, I sat back, super proud of my work. I called Deserae over to read the masterpiece.

“Mmhmmm,” she said when she finished. “Yeah, that’s really good, hon.”

But while she was talking, I noticed that she was giving me the same type of smile you’d probably give someone who tells you that he’s going to convince people to impeach the President with his cardboard sign.

I noticed that she was giving me the same type of smile you’d probably give someone who tells you that he’s going to convince people to impeach the President with his cardboard sign.

“What, you don’t think he’ll listen?”

“Ummmm, well I would…” she said while I glared at her. “…But, ya know, he kind of seems like a crazy person.”

“We’ll see.”

A few hours later, we saw.

I lost my mind.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO CALL IT OVERPASS FOR OBAMA’S IMPEACHMENT! IT’S A STUPID NAME! FIVE PEOPLE ARE DOING IT! JUST CHANGE THE NAME!”

“I know.”

“LESS THAN 1% DON’T WANT YOU UP THERE?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT THEM TO TELL YOU?! WITH ROCKET LAUNCHERS?!”

“I know.”

“FORMER GLORY. I’LL SHOW YOU FORMER GLORY.”

“Can we go to bed?”

The next morning, I started my rebuttal. It was angry. It was snarky. It compared his group to the Westboro Baptist Church.

It petered out after the fourth sentence.

I just couldn’t work up the emotion necessary to keep the argument going. I wanted to – I really, really wanted to – but I got caught up with other things, and the email never left my drafts folder.

The next Thursday, I left work a little early and braced myself for traffic. But the traffic never came. Same thing the next Thursday, and the Thursday after that.

That’s when I realized Vincent and I had something in common. We had both fallen victim to The Man’s most dangerous weapon – the one thing that has destroyed more freedom fighters than all of the world’s wars combined.

Sorry Vincent, we’re both just lazy I guess.

LIFE LESSON #42

Fighting The Man is a lot harder than fighting the man who’s fighting The Man.