I have fucking had it with the whining.
This country has become soft. And its milksop weakness extends to all races, all creeds, all religions and both ends of the political spectrum. Jesus Fucking Christ, people. I’m sick of it. Man up! What would our forebears think if they knew that the vast majority of Americans had become a bunch of prim, whiny old hags?
It’s gotten so bad, I FIND MYSELF DOING IT. It’s a cultural poison. It’s sapping our strength when we can least afford it. It’s laziness incarnate.
Glenn Beck and his retarded Teabaggers are case in point. They have no solutions for our economic crises or our health care problem. All they do is kvetch and bellyache. And they do it with lots of enthusiasm and thousands of carefully crafted blogs and opinion pieces. If they spent 1% of that energy studying the problems, seeking the advice of professionals and questioning their own conclusions, maybe we’d have some fucking consensus and meaningful answers.
But no. We get whining. Nation-wide, 4-color-process whining.
And don’t you leftie Democrats start getting all smug. You are about as whiny as it gets. Noam Chomsky has opposed all kinds of things and written soaring indictments of everything that has ever been wrong. Yet he has never put his ass on the line and watched with bated breath as his reputation hung in the balance. He talks and he writes and he “supports”. You douche.
The political left has all but written off Barack Obama as a sellout toady of the Pentagon and Wall Street. The way I see it, that’s what happens with EVERY president about four hours after inauguration. A group of generals and executives sits him down and explains the Way Things Are. I don’t care if Noam Chomsky himself got elected. In four hours, he’d have his staff re-draft resolutions to bomb Pakistan and lower the corporate tax rates.
Even Teddy Roosevelt, who shot lions, ate raw elephants and charged San Juan hill had to endure the cold shower of political reality. His bullish nature was cowed. So what did Teddy do? He took a long hard look at what he should do and balanced it against what he could do and ended up with his face on a mountain, glaring through his pince-nez at generations of fat, whiny Americans who barely recall what he did. At least he doesn’t whine about it!
Hunter Thompson had a lot to complain about. Vietnam, drug laws, Nixon and a fickle public, for starters. Yet somehow he was able to indict, decry and enlighten without being a fucking cry-baby about it. I love Hunter Thompson. Whenever I’m down and weepy, I think: WWHTD? The guy has seen more dire moments than me, yet not once did he fall apart like an autumn leaf. In the end, he took himself out rather than endure the ravages of old age. You pay the ticket, you take the ride. No whining!
You can point out failures. You can demand justice. You can compose criticisms.
But quit whining. Quit. Fucking. Whining!