I’m convinced that somewhere along the way, likely in college, most people traded in their brain for a bag of feelings. They all lined up one by one at some very depressing window and systematically relinquished the rights to their mental faculties over to a spiritually starved and shrill intellectual. From that point forward, each morning they have heaved this stinking sack of emotions over their backs, having been left with no other resources. For any given scenario, they must reach into this bag and whip out something completely irrelevant. They might as well fight fires with foam fingers, which is almost exactly how I envision it when a person addresses logic with feeling.
There are monsters in the world telling people that their feelings matter. Monsters! They disguise themselves as parents, professors and politicians, but they are monsters. Every one of them should be defanged. Forget what they told you. Your feelings don’t matter to anyone but you and moderately to those who love you. The rest of the world is exempt from making decisions based around your feelings, and how could they be expected to? In a world dominated by feelings, everyone must be ultimately self serving. How many feelings can you possibly bow to simultaneously? You can’t serve your own emotion and serve the emotions of others unless your emotional needs require that you find acceptance through subservience, which makes you a slave. I’m asking you to think for a minute, so put down your sack of grievances for now and borrow a brain.
I place much blame at the feet of parents, who have largely taught their children that the world will love and accept them. This is the single easiest way to set your children up for failure. Kumbaya until your vocal cords bleed and that belief will still be horse shit. The world is a competitive place where injustice exists, has always existed and will always exist. Hard work doesn’t always equate to success, merit doesn’t always get recognized and truth is often obscured. Smart people fail, idiots overcome and there is no guarantee that people will like you. Yes, I am cynical and you should be taking notes. Cynicism is your friend. Cynicism keeps you from falling into a pit of feelings and choking to death on a ‘why me?’. Cynicism prompts you to work harder than you might ‘feel’ you should have to. Cynicism prepares you for failure and makes successes that much more rewarding. Cynicism keeps entitlement at bay.
Around my house, we like to say, “The only thing I’ve gotta do is stay white and die.” That’s also the only thing any of us are guaranteed; who we are and our inevitable demise—and I would add, a relationship with God, if we so desire. Entitlement is a myth that belongs in a book right next to Thetan beings. None of us are promised opportunity, prosperity or even the most basic of needs. We aren’t promised good health, nutritious food, safe housing, a loving family, financial security, nor should we expect that any of it be provided. That’s a harsh reality for many of you and if your gut just did a flip, I get it. The truth isn’t always beautiful. Sometimes it’s a downright travesty.
Being aware of reality doesn’t mean you enjoy its implications. I wish that everyone could enjoy security and love in the fullest. I also wish I could play the banjo with my toes. I’d settle for my fingers and a lower BMI. Logical deduction is now equated with a lack of compassion, or worse, absolute bigotry. If you acknowledge that it isn’t possible for all people to enjoy the same opportunities, you are labeled a racist, bigot, elitist or whatever other dismissive term is trendy this week. It is a fact of nature and evidenced in history that there will always be people who have more than others. The type of people who will have more or less has made radical shifts over time. Up has become down and will become up once again. Mention that to a person with a sack of feelings and you will be addressed like a gold-foiled roasted baby smuggler. Denial will in no way alter reality, sack draggers.
When I was six, I thought I deserved to play softball games without ever attending a practice. Then I turned seven and I didn’t want to suck at softball anymore, so I went to practice. A lot of adults want to reap rewards they have no desire to earn and no one, not their professors, not their family, not their spouses, employers, police officers or politicians are making them turn seven. You can’t have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat! You can’t be good at softball if you don’t practice. You can’t demand healthcare if you don’t contribute. You can’t expect a promotion if you don’t earn it. You can’t effectively reach people if you behave irrationally. It shouldn’t even be necessary to state it, but that’s where we are as a society.
Personal responsibility is the key to success, to feeling less and achieving more. I alone am responsible for my own life and if I am fortunate enough to find help in my family, friends or government, I can accept it as a blessing. There isn’t a single thing lacking that I am owed. I require no endorsements, and neither do you.
Happy birthday, sack draggers. I now pronounce you seven.
The Reprobate's Guide to Pancakes 