It's wicked to mock the afflicted

I have the social complexity of a puppy. I have my default weary, guarded, friend-or-foe phase and my tail wagging eager-to-please phase. It takes little more than the exchange of first names before I am in your lap. The problem is some people are not quite ready for that enthusiasm, and this openness sometimes catches people unprepared. People who have known me can put some of my outbursts into context (i.e. I am full of shit) and know how to handle them (i.e. with a grain of salt). I am missing that gland in your brain that tells you not to tell new acquaintances that the only reason you want to be rich is so that you can hunt man for sport, the only game worth hunting I say. This has included my professional contacts. We meet, we have dinner, we have a few drinks and I’ll tell you the aristocrats joke. Or recruit your assistance on my plan to bring down Western Civilisation by assassinating celebrities. I think it's too late to learn circumspection. Oh well.