I don’t have a strong recollection of being called names as a child. I’m sure I was, because hey, kids are mean and I had a really great set of buckteeth before orthodontics kicked in. What I do remember is what we used to say, or what we were supposed to say, when someone called us a name: Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Or, my preferred saying: I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you. Neither one of these made very much sense, especially the one about being rubber and glue because while sound waves may bounce, they don’t exactly stick. Also, being made of rubber is almost as silly as being made of glue, unless your name is Elmer. I can’t, however, deny that a stiff beating with wood and rock would probably hurt pretty bad. ...
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