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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: ok so in irish they sell these green jackets with a small german flag thing on each sleeve and so as was the style i bought one. someone thought theyd like to start with me about it they said 'omg are you racist, thats a german jacket do you like what hitler did or something'
What I said: dude its just a jacket
What I SHOULD have said: 'hell yea i like it, im hitler reincarnate of course i do, and when i take over the world you're first on death list' OR 'if you think my jacket's bad you should see the 'i love hitler' tatoo on my ass, would you like to see it? and hey while you're there would you like to kiss it too?'
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!