As a
general rule I try to behave in a
civil manner towards my
fellow human beings.
Vonnegut summed it up best with "
Love may fail, but
courtesy prevails." A minimum level of
politeness from everyone would be the social equivalent of
motor oil: it would reduce
friction,
wear and tear, and would help prevent
breakdowns.
It is, of course, a futile effort. The third law says that order in a system will inevitably decrease over time until a state of "heat death" is reached.
It's not just the savages around me who are to blame, the fault lies within me as well. After a day of trying to be polite to people, I sometimes can't stifle the urge to say something cruel, do something vindictive, or behave in a way that adds stress to someone else's life. It's a relief, just for a minute, to do something rotten to balance out trying to be good all day.
But the part of me that believes that things can be improved won't let me be a bastard all day. The part of me that believes that I can be improved just makes me regret it.