If you are reading this and you stand taller than 5' 10", check your height privilege. (If you are reading this, you might also want to check your IQ -- reading posts hereon has a tendency to decrease intelligence.)
Because of your inordinate height, you are predisposed to be a bully. You can't help it. It's in your genes.
But that's beside the point. You're tall and that gives you an unfair advantage.
Those of you who know the Colonel personally are tempted at this point to draw yourselves up to every inch of your privileged heightness and deride the Colonel for his self-pitying plunge into the deep end of the victimhood pool. Let's be clear -- the Colonel ain't a victim. Further, he ain't scared of nothin' nor nobuddy ('ceptin' the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda). The Colonel stands a healthy 5' 6 and 3/4" (don't ever forget the 3/4). He'd be lying if he tried to tell you that it never bothered him.
But, he never let it stop him, either.
You have to admit the Colonel's point about height privilege has merit, though. And, the entire world is not just socially biased against short folks. There's a glaring economic bias in place as well
Tall people, are you required the extra expense of a step ladder in your kitchen, closets, and garage to reach items on top shelves?
No? Check your height privilege.
Tall people, do you always have to pay extra to have trouser legs shortened -- even for off-the-rack?
No? Check your height privilege.
Tall people, do you need a running start and vault to get into your pick-up truck?
No? Check your height privilege.
Tall people, have you ever been the permanent man in the middle in a daily game of "keep away" every single day of the fifth grade?
No? Check your height privilege.
Look, the Colonel will admit that there are some advantages to his short stature. He was always (he says again, always) underestimated. When you start out at the back of the pack, there is a delicious rush to passing everyone on your way to the front.
Then there was that locker room incident in the 9th grade. Jim Parthenais (exercising his new-found height privilege) grabbed the Colonel and unceremoniously dumped him in the dirty towel bin. Yeah, funny stuff. Yuk, yuk, yuk. The Colonel came rocketing out from under a pile of wet towels like a wolf released from a leg hold trap. Okay, it was more like a coon scrambling out of a garbage can, but the end result was a full-scale assault on the Colonel's tormentor.
Coach Stromberg emerged from his office in time to see the Colonel latched on to Parthenais' back like an alien on the back of a Star Trek red-shirter. The height-privileged one was screeching and spinning in place trying to unlatch the Colonel, and the Colonel was growling and gnawing on an ear (or a nose -- the Colonel's memory is fuzzy at his advanced age), and Coach Stromberg thundered,
"What in hell is going on out here!"
The Colonel executed a dismount that would have a made a bull-rider give up his belt buckle, and... Okay, Parthenais finally got a grip on the Colonel and slung him off his back like a sack of grain into the back of a pick-up truck. The Colonel scrambled to his feet, spit out the piece of flesh in his jaws, and... Okay, it might have been a clump of wet towel lint...
Coach Stromberg grabbed the bull and rider by the scruff of the neck and dragged us into his office, slamming the door behind him.
"Who started it?"
The Colonel just tilted his head and looked up at Parthenais and then back at Coach.
"Hit the showers, Gregory!"
With height privilege comes responsibility.
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