Thoughtful Jim Bimbaugh was the town's positive voice of reason. He was a tall older man with open eyes and a kind, gentle voice. Everyone asked him for advice. He was a good listener and seemed to have a good answer for everything.
"Thoughtful Jim, what do I do about this bad thing?"
"Maybe try seeing the good in it?"
"Thoughtful Jim, my girlfriend broke up with me."
"Maybe being with yourself right now is better than being with her."
"Thoughtful Jim, this one thing's making me feel down."
"Life's about navigating ups and downs. Not about only being 'up'."
People continued to ask him for wise advice. He always helped. So nice. So caring. Jim basically gave them the same answer every time. Thoughtful Jim began to be able to give this good advice in his sleep. Then they'd say, "Wow you're right, Jim Bimbaugh!" And come back a week later with a similar problem and get an answer with a similar outlook.
He wondered, why did people keep making the same type of mistakes and asking the same types of question?
He started to get goddamned sick of his same answer. Same answer. Same answer. Insightful outlook. Thoughtful take. Positive spin. Boring! Sick! Jim got a little discouraged by his boredom, thinking he was a fraud with nothing real to say, and nothing to offer. A one trick pony.
"Eh, it's just a positive spin." Jim said to himself.
"But maybe people need a positive spin. They just can't see it in the moment." Jim said back to himself.
"Hmm. That's a good point." he considered.
"Ah bullshit, I'm just giving myself a positive spin." he said to himself.
Jim was becoming very negative. The change actually felt good though. He decided to start being negative and unreasonable. What a burden this patience and positivity had become. Why did he have to carry the responsibility of being the wise man to these idiots who couldn't figure their shit out? Why couldn't these people help themselves?
First, Thoughtful Jim tried not calling people back who'd ask for help. He was usually quick to respond.
Second, he tried giving bad advice.
"Thoughtful Jim, I eat too many sweets." said a schmuck.
"Eat a lot of donuts, maybe you'll get sick of 'em." said Jim.
"Thoughtful Jim, my boss criticizes me at my job." said some dummy.
"Punch him." said Jim.
Third, he just tried being straight up rude.
People'd come back saying "Hey you gave me bad advice!"
"Figure it out yourself, shit-for-brains!" Jim said.
"You stirred me in the wrong direction." said some bozo.
"What am I, your fucking puppet master?!" said Jim.
Maybe punching the boss actually was good advice? Jim didn't seem to know anymore, or care. The one thing he found pleasure in, was being rude to people who asked for his help. He told them to fuck off, and to go fuck themselves, and to go fuck their mothers. He also called them fuckfaces. Sometimes he'd go out of his way to be a shit to people who hadn't asked him for anything.
"Hey!" said Thoughtful Jim, to a guy in a brown raincoat.
"Yes?" said the man in the raincoat.
Then Jim shoved him.
He also spit mucus on a sidewalk.
He was having a great time with this change of pace and hadn't felt this good in years. What a relief! It was like he aired all that positive bullshit out of his system.
One day the phone stopped ringing.
"Good." he said.
"Hmm." he said.
Still nothing for a while. Like days and weeks.
"Assholes." he said.
Like a year or two, maybe five.
"Those people can fuck themselves."
He pushed all the people away and no one asked him for advice. Then he got sad because no one cared anymore. Then he asked himself why he was sad. He was alone. Then he tried to give himself advice, but he was more used to giving bad advice than good advice.
"Maybe you should go fuck yourself." he told himself, but that wasn't helpful.
Then he had to think real hard about what some good and positive advice would be, so he dug into the back of his brain to a part he'd locked up for a while.
Jim Bimbaugh applied his old boring positive, thoughtful, big-picture rhetoric to his current situation. It made him want to gag. He went out and arduously tried to be nice to some people. He was still bored by it and slightly repulsed. People were afraid of him, but he'd explain he'd been "going through a thing" and that he "was sorry."
Jim made apology pies for some people. His pies weren't very good though because that was never an area of expertise for him.
He managed to rebuild some of his reputation. Some people vowed to never speak to him again, and he was okay it, because after an interim period of beating himself up and feeling bad about it, per his advice, being okay with it was the best thing he could think to do.