Time-Bomb Tim

BLOGGING ABOUT WHATEVER

ENTRY - 26

TITLE: Time-Bomb Tim

AUTHOR: J. William Bell

DATE POSTED: 2026-9-3

In every family, there is somebody like "Time-Bomb Tim." In every neighbourhood, there is somebody like "Time-Bomb Tim." And, if you're really unlucky; you're living in a neighbourhood/community where almost everybody is just like "Time-Bomb Tim."

This Time-Bomb Tim character is a composite of many different people I've met over the years, and you have my friend Jack; the previously mentioned disgruntled Java-House worker; to thank for the existence of this particular blog post. He has known some Time-Bomb Tims too, and he encouraged me to write about it; using his, mine, and a few other sources who prefer to remain anonymous. Once you become familiar with the character profile and tendencies of Time-Bomb Tim, you'll understand why these other sources want to stay anonymous.

Basically as possible; Time-Bomb Tim (or "Tina,"-- disaster is an equal oppourtunity employer, after all); is somebody who personifies one of the Seven Deadly Sins. What makes this person tragic/dangerous is that every once in a while, they try to change or better themselves; but, they take short-cuts, they ignore the foundational sources of their ongoing problems/challenges; and they eventually just revert or self-destruct back into their dysfunctional state. And everybody who cares about them, cares for them, or has to live in close proximity to them; suffers.

The Time-Bomb Tim I have known the best personifies the sin of Sloth, with a generous side-order of Crippling Alcoholism, and a small serving of Vanity, plus Envy; for dessert.

It almost broke my heart every time I witnessed him having a moment of sobriety/clarity where he began to make some effort towards bettering himself. But after watching him go through the downward/self-destructive cycle again and again; my heart became harder to break. He would only take a vacation from alcoholism because he couldn't afford booze for a while, and he didn't have any gullible patsies to exploit. He would only take an interest in religion because the church was holding a potluck lunch after service, on that particular Sunday. He was probably involved in the sale and purchase of stolen goods, and ironically; lying about doing so seemed to be his only well-practiced talent.

Any good Samaritan who tried to help him inevitably became his public apologist, mooch-target, chore mule, or new drinking buddy. And just like everybody else who chooses to remain in this neverending downward spiral; he directly/indirectly abused and angered everyone within close proximity to him.

Nobody cried when he had to leave. The Police, Lawyers, Landlord, and Social Workers said so.

It will be nothing short of a miracle if anybody cries after he dies.

Excelsior...