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I've never liked violence. At all. Violence hurts people and includes a significant risk of killing them. It's pretty much the worst thing you can do, as far as I'm concerned.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the visceral thrill of violence in my entertainment as much as the next testosterone-infused individual, but real, actual person-on-person violence? Scary stuff.

I've also never liked combat sports - that's just a game that includes violence so as to help you become good at it. Why would I play that game?

In the highly unlikely event that I'm ever engaged in violence, I consider the most ethical action to be that which brings a decisive end to it as soon as possible - regardless if that includes running away, crying, yelling, bargaining, pleading, lying, biting, pulling hair, kicking for the testicles, throwing things, or inappropriate groping of the genitals.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no honour to be found on the battlefield. If that makes me unmasculine... I can live with that.

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(Friday. INT: apartment)

(EB is pulling up her pant leg, a bruise is forming right on her patella)
EB: Gah! Jeeze, it's already turning purple.
JH: Once again, I am so, so sorry. Also, we're apparently out of ice cubes, so this is a pizza pocket in a dish towel.
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EB: What you are supposed to do, for the record, is grab my wrist.
JH: I wasn't aware the wrist was considered an erogenous zone.
EB: It's not. It's to prevent me from running away.
JH: I think kicking the knee out did that pretty well.
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JH: Besides, if I grabbed your wrist, you'd just turn out and to the side, throwing me off balance and giving you a free shot at my kidneys or the side of my head.
EB: You've taken martial arts?
JH: I've seen some instructional videos, I think have a basic concept of how it's supposed to work.
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EB: Oh my God. You're a counter-counter-rapist!
JH (pinching the bridge of his nose): You know what's nice? Monopoly. Whaddya say we play some Monopoly?