Ammo Grrrll asks a good question: IF THIS ISN’T NICE…THEN WHAT IS? Although she doesn’t identify it as a national crisis and call for the the formation of a commission to study it, she does seek to mitigate an epidemic lack of gratitude abroad in the land. She writes:
On this, the seventh day of Passover, in this Sweet Land of religious Liberty, I look out the window of my modest home in Gated Geezerville, and what do I see?
Well, first of all, it is almost 100 degrees out (in April) and yet my home is cool and comfortable. How Arizona was even settled BEFORE air conditioning will forever be a mystery to me. My dear Mama of blessed memory talked often about the farm in the Dust Bowl in South Dakota with no rain, no running water, locusts, and horrible heat. Though the three children were tasked with dusting every single day, dust still accumulated on every surface, on every windowsill, sometimes measured in inches. It was miserable, yes, and went on for YEARS, but it wasn’t 119 degrees.
I have just returned from my human-sized family grocery, Bashas, where I was able to find – at insanely-reasonable prices – such exotic goods as parsnips, papaya, bananas from Honduras, watermelon from Mexico, sweet onions from Hawaii, and pink grapes from Peru. The Kings of Europe had never tasted any of these things. Parsnips, maybe.
If I want another cup of coffee, I go to my Keurig, spin the little cup carousel to select which brand I want – we even have a separate decaf carousel for those who prefer a pointless beverage – press a button, and in less than a minute have a pretty good cup of coffee.
Should I break a tooth, as I have been doing with tedious regularity – pizza crust! Fortune cookie! Pecan? Seriously? — one phone call will get me seen that very day by my wonderful all-lady dental team about a mile away. Should the break be bad enough, I may have to drive 20 miles into “town” to the oral surgeon. Yes, it will be expensive even with insurance, but that’s one of the reasons we have savings. Teeth, it turns out, are really quite important. Which you definitely notice when they start disappearing.
As I believe I have referenced in a previous rant, a friend who winters in Mesa finally tired of hobbling around on her bad hip, bit the bullet and called a surgeon. She was seen the next day, scheduled for surgery the day after that, and a week from the day she called, was walking around in less pain than before the surgery, and doing rehab. A Canadian friend in Palm Springs, prisoner of the great “Medicare for All” in Canada, was in unspeakable hip pain for TWO YEARS before he made it to the top of the queue for surgery. He got a phone call and had one week to make arrangements to get back to Canada for the surgery or lose his place in the queue. And that didn’t mean that he’d fall to NEXT in line. Oh heck no, that meant he went to the end of the line again.
Moving right along, should we want to get some entertainment – without even leaving home! — we have several alternative sources wherein every single television program that has ever aired is available, as well as every movie and YouTube of most comedians and music. Not even to mention what’s available on our phones and the Internet. As a last resort, of course, there’s always TALKING to each other. Naaah. Just kidding.
I could go on, of course, listing blessings of modern life. We haven’t even touched Interstate Highways, air travel, deodorant, or indoor plumbing. So, here’s the $64,000 question: WHY, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ENRAGED ALL THE TIME???
If this isn’t nice, then what is?
I would love to bring back a gay man from a century ago and tell him, “Guess what? You can get married now.” “I know. I was married.” “No, I mean to another man.” Dead faint. When he is revived, he hears: “But, listen, some horrible Christian won’t bake you a cake with two little plastic guys on top. Sure, you could go to a gay baker or an atheist baker, and probably even get a cake with the little plastic guys actually engaging in sex on the cake, but we have found ONE bakery that won’t cooperate and it must be driven out of business.”
It would be so great to see the look on the face of a black woman from 1859 when told by a spittle-spraying college freshman today that “Yes, I am at Yale with 400 fewer points on my SATs than the Chinese guy who had to go to Enormous State University, and yes, I have a free ride even though my parents are upper middle class, but I am screaming here today and swearing at my white professor because she said it was no big deal if students wear a Hallowe’en costume that I do not approve of. Also, I think she wears hoop earrings.”
Doesn’t the very concept of a “microaggression” indicate that there is almost nothing left to protest? In fact, the level of screaming rage seems to be INVERSELY proportional to the seriousness of the pretend offense. So, why do I think the Left has gone psychotic all out of proportion to any real or imagined grievance:
It pays. If you don’t have nepotism to fall back on – Mika, Chelsea, Meghan, whatever Valerie Jarrett’s daughter’s name is, I don’t care enough to look it up — you’re going to need an angle to get spectacularly rich when you know nothing and can do less. Yap about toxic masculinity or white supremacy and you, too, could get a really nice gig on television or in print.
The Brown Shirt Base needs to be in a constant state of agitation in order to be mobilized when needed. When the electorate feels things are going pretty well, they tend to stay at the dance with the one that brung ‘em. This will never do.
Rage is a lucrative modern industry. Counting Diversity Drone bean counters in corporate America, Government and Academia, “Studies” professors, the professional malcontents in #WarOnWomen and the Women’s March, Black Lives Matter and of course, the entire “Resistance” (Boldly Resisting Sanity Since 2015!), there are literally millions of jobs whose main qualification is stroke-level rage. Keith Olbermann alone is a one-man rage racket.
Therefore, it behooves us to commit a revolutionary act and BE HAPPY. Don’t just “pursue” happiness, as is our God-given right in this great and good country, CATCH happiness and spread it. But, just in case this whole Pollyanna thing doesn’t work out, also buy a gun. Maybe two. Take a safety course, and practice, practice, practice.