From the title, you might suspect that this is “a political post.” It’s not, and honestly I’m not sure what the word even means anymore — like “hero” and “crisis” and “racist,” “political” is applied to so much these days that it’s lost any semblance of precision.
Some things I tolerate without issue, some things I don’t. Though I acknowledge that each of us walks through this world differently, and I generally accommodate that, there’s certain behavior that brings out my “does not play well with others” side.
Case-in-point: I don’t handle addiction (or addicts) well at all. Say whatever you want about it being a “disease” and all that, but addiction begins and ends with choices. I refuse to absolve an addict of personal responsibility.
I can’t abide sloppy drunks, loud drunks and mean drunks, either. Obviously I have no problem with drinking, but self-respect and self-control are too important to me to put up with that shit.
I can’t stand willful ignorance, entitlement, helplessness, dependency, apathy or inaction. None of us is owed success or good fortune. Shut up and get to work — or at least shut up.
Related: I hate whining, whether it’s about circumstances within or outside of a person’s control. This is prime season for whining and constant complaining, too, and it rubs me raw. The wailing commences the moment the first snowflake falls or the mercury drops below freezing and, most embarrassing, it comes from places where winter is a fact of life — every damned year.
Pitch a tent on the sunny shores of Lake Qwitcherbitchin and get over it, people.
Ditto, by the way, criticizing weather forecasts. I’ve yet to meet anyone criticizing the weatherman who’s smarter about weather than a weatherman. Seriously, when you hear bitching about how wrong a forecast was — repeat, was — I guarantee it’s coming from someone who couldn’t find their meteorological ass with both hands. It’s practically a Law of Nature.
I don’t much like an unhealthy obsession with the past — or, for that matter, with the future. It’s the kind of dysfunction that cripples a current partner with memories of an ex. It’s a neurosis that has people counting the days ’til Christmas in January. I avoid that nonsense.
I hate it when people don’t think things through. Here are three example from my browse of social media just this morning:
“Why is Narcan free to a dope addict but my insulin is $750 a month?”
“The feds want to forgive student loans. Will they also forgive loans that truckers took out to buy their big rigs?”
“More than twice as many people are killed with knives as with rifles. Instead of going after ‘assault weapons,’ why aren’t they trying to ban knives?”
All of those “equivalency” memes were posted by folks who claim to favor limited government, but the arguments they make are for bigger government. The proper answer — provided a person actually thinks before they share — is that the State should pay for neither Narcan nor insulin; that individual citizens must take responsibility for the obligations they assume; and that any government ban on tools of self-defense is patently unconstitutional and an abrogation of natural law.
It also annoys the hell outta me when people don’t take time to corroborate what they pass along. The Internet is chock-full of bullshit because most folks don’t check for bullshit before perpetuating bullshit.
And don’t get me started on mis-attributed or invented quotes, a pet peeve of mine. People are seduced by a sentiment and ignore inaccuracy, a “we choose truth over facts” mentality.
Finally — and this is the editor in me — I hate typos and misspellings. I hate finding them in my own work and it irritates me to no end when I see memes and pithy posts with obvious errors. Proofreading takes very little effort and even less time — but it does take discipline
Really, I’ve been in a good mood the last couple of days. There were just a few things I needed to say.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.