As Shang Tsung from the awesome first Mortal Kombat movie said “Save your pity for the weak!” Best line of one of the greatest Action B-movies ever.
I don’t know if it is because of how I was raised, or my time in the military, or just my personality, but I hate when people feel sorry for themselves. Heck, I hate myself when I get all weepy and depressed. But it seems many people in this day and age think that if they stub a toe, or don’t win an award they should be coddled and given a cookies.
I’m all out of cookies you whiny mustardbustard. I’m on a diet! I drink poop tea! (Some stupid weight loss tea that seems to make my insides liquefy).
I think it has to do with the mentality that everyone’s a winner from out of the womb. Babies participate in a game, a sport, and everyone is supposed to let the room. If children are playing as a group, EVERY last snotty nosed ankle biter should get a trophy, even little John-boy, who stood there digging in his butt for gold for a few hours. Give that stank brown hand a trophy!
People aren’t honest with their kids. They praise my son being self-sufficient, but gasp when I say I never let him win on a game with me. And that I flat-out answer honestly any question he asks about life. To them, it’s too embarrassing. Why the frack did you have kids? Did you think it was going to be like a Hallmark movie where nothing bad or uncomfortable ever happens? Did you hit your head after pushing your monstrosity out and forget the world we live in?
You are setting up your child to not have realistic expectations, and to get wedgies everyday, you punk.
And then those pinks raise punks to grow up to be… Grown up punks. And they get to a college, and whine about how hard it is. And they expect a degree to be handed to them. And then they get a job, and they whine about how hard THAT is. And why aren’t they running things by now when they have the life and work experience of a gnat?
Or maybe they are just those people who have had a rough hand in life. Dog and every family member dead, a disease that’s worse than Mr. Glass in Unbreakable. Just incredibly poopified life. And I have a little empathy, to a point. But Dear God day in and day out I say hi and you start to list the reasons why you’d be better off dead? I might just hand you a rope and knife. Remember, not ACROSS the wrists.
Sorry (not really), I’m just lately fed up with the in person pity parties people like to throw in my face. I’d much rather read about in online. At least on Facebook if you go all F*** My Life crazy, I can click Like. And you can sit and wonder if I’m sharing in, or laughing at your sadness.