A scoundrel and a villain, who goes about with a corrupt mouth, who winks with his eye, signals with his feet and motions with his fingers, who plots evil with deceit in his heart -- he always stirs up dissension.  Therefore disaster will overtake him in an instant; he will suddenly be destroyed -- without remedy (Proverbs 6:12-15).

When I was in college, I went through a Beatles phase.  Even though the music and mystique around the Beatles was more befitting my parents' college years, everyone on the second floor of Conklin Residence Hall was totally into them.  We went to Halloween parties that year dressed as figures from the album cover of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.  We sang along, en masse, when anyone played a song from their personal stereo ("When I Saw Her Standing There" and "Octopus's Garden," of all songs, were special favorites).  My roommate and I even programmed our room's voicemail to feature us singing a modified version of "Don't Let Me Down" along with John, Paul, George, and Ringo.  I can still hear it now:  "Don't let me down... You've reached Ben and Eric's room... Don't let me down... Leave a message right now..."  The Beatles were big that year.

Somewhere along the line, I was introduced to the old black-and-white film the Beatles produced, "Hard Day's Night."  And while there were plenty of amusing lines to be pulled from that movie (recycled ad infinitum, ad nauseum), one of the lines which has stuck with me the most -- even to this day -- is the line that was affixed to Paul's grandfather throughout the film:  "He's a king mixer."  In the movie, the man who is supposedly Paul's grandfather accompanies the Beatles on a train trip, and all along the way, when anyone new is introduced to the man, a warning is given that he's a real mixer -- someone who likes to stir up trouble, sabotage situations, and pit people against one another as much as possible.  I don't remember all of the old man's actual antics any more; just the general classification and the (somewhat foreign and novel) terminology of him being a mixer.

As you might suspect, the mixer terminology worked its way into the vernacular language of me and my Conklin Hall friends.  We regularly encountered people who fit the description perfectly -- cheating at cards in the lounges, cutting in line at the cafeterias, playing dirty basketball at the Rec Center, or trying to pick a fight at some party -- and the "mixer" label afforded us a low-key means of diffusing the immediate tensions, reducing frustrations, and figuring out a sort of inside joke to help us laugh about the situation.  It gave us the means to recognize that another person's asocial behavior was nothing personal; it was just a reflection of that individual's unsavory character.  We'd say -- in our best Liverpudlian accents -- "He's a king mixer, that one," when what we really meant was, "Don't worry, that's just how he is; he's a scoundrel... a villain... he always stirs up dissesion."  It was convenient short-hand, and I still find myself thinking it today (even if I don't always say it out-loud any more).  It's an important life skill to realize that some people are just like that, no matter what you do.  So there's no use getting all worked up about it.  One way or another, their attitude will catch up with them -- but that doesn't mean that it's my job to do the reckoning.

Proverbs 6:12-15 reveals that it's God's job to take care of the mixers.  And I, personally, find it reassuring to know that He takes that job seriously.  When the mixer's time comes, disaster will overtake him in an instant; he will suddenly be destroyed -- without remedy.  Until then, it's best for me to remain wary for the damage that can be inflicted by such scoundrels and villains; but as much as possible I do well to brush off their provocative behavior and say, "Watch out for that one.  He's a real mixer.  A king mixer, he is."