People are forever approaching me and, in an effort to get to know me better, they ask, "Steve are you totally self-absorbed?" I have to tell you, I appreciate that sort of interest.
But, to answer the question, I'm not really sure what that means. If they're asking am I involved in efforts to help improve the quality of life for others, the answer is a resounding, "YES!"
I am, from what I've learned watching Star Trek, an empath. I deeply feel the pain of others. And I'm here to tell you that I am constantly meeting individuals who must have much pain because of severe emotional disorders. I'm no podiatrist, but I understand mental and emotional disorders. Today, I will address just three severe disorders that plague many of my friends and acquaintances.
First, and it's a new breed, are the fist shakers. I don't know how this got started, especially among old white guys who think they're cool, but have you ever tried to shake hands with such an aforementioned person and he holds his fist up. I guess the "cool" thing is for my fist to bump up to his fist. I don't get it. What's so cool about that.
Just the other day, I gave this guy some good news (about me, of course) and he says, "Alright!" He then puts his hand out and I reach out to shake it. But what happened is I grasped his fist. Since I'm the type that belives in the "When in Rome..." approach, I then made a fist. He was also a "When in Rome..." sort of guy, so he ended up wrapping his hand around my fist. It would have been pretty embarrassing had I not immediately realized that the poor guy had an emotional disorder. I walked away wiping a tear from my eyes. Remember, I'm an empath.
The second disorder is especially pervasive among young retail clerks. I call it the, "I can't say 'You're welcome'" disorder. You've probably seen it yourself. You purchase something at the store, and as you conclude, you politely say, "Thank you."
Now, in the old days, the clerk would have said, "You're welcome." But because this disorder has become so pervasive, the clerk will inevitibly say, "No problem."
No problem? Of course it's no problem. You're a clerk. I'm a customer. I hand you the item. You ring it up. You tell me how much. I pay it. You put it in a bag. I leave you to get back to examining the infections from your facial piercings. I don't see any problems with that. In fact, if I thought it would have been a problem, I wouldn't have gone in the store in the first place.
The third disorder is very sad. It's also very annoying. It's the God-blesser syndrome. If you've ever worked in an office, you've no doubt encountered someone who suffers from this. Some offices have three or four sufferers.
Someone sneezes and, the God-Blesser, who, I'm guessing, has a variation of Turrets Syndrome, is compelled to say, "God bless you." Why? Is sneezing such a sin that this "office priest" must bless the sneezer?
No, there's no valid reason for such a reaction. And it truly is an obsessive, compulsive thing because if one should sneeze two, three, or more times, the "god-blesser" god-blesses every single time.
Some poor souls suffer to such a degree that they're in tune to a sneeze anywhere in the building. I worked with one woman who'd get on the elevator and go up three floors to bless a sneezer. It's very distracting. In fact, if I know I'm going to have a sneezy day, I'll stay home from work.
I personally witnessed an encounter one day recently that highlighted the severity of the disorder. Here's how it went, and I'm hardly making this up:
Betty: Oh, it's so sad. Jim's doctor found a tumor and he doesn't know if it's malignant and I'm so (Betty sneezes)...
Sue: God bless you.
Betty: Oh, gee, thanks. Anyway his (Betty sneezes again)
Sue: Ha Ha God bless you again
Betty: Hee Hee, thank you. I must be allergic to something. I can't stop (Betty sneezes)
Sue: God bless you once more. Ha Ha Ha Ha
Betty: Hee Hee Hee Hee. Oh my. Now, what were we talking about. Hmm. It must not have been that important.
Sue: I think you were saying you had allergies.
I couldn't make this stuff up. Well, actually I could. But I didn't...much.
Anyway, I hope you've gotten the point. I care about the crazy people out there. I want to help them. So, am I self-absorbed? If that means being a truly, caring person, an empath, if you will, then my reply will have to be, "Guilty as charged."
Friday, July 17, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
THREE THINGS I HATE ABOUT UKROP'S
Yesterday a shocking news story appeared on a Richmond website. Ukrop’s is for sale. The story may have been retracted or denied by now. I’m not keen on fact checking. Facts just get in the way of my opinions. But, anyway, the story got me to thinking about a column I wrote for West End’s Best Magazine several years ago. The column never got into print, because it was felt by the publishers that to say anything against Ukrop’s Grocery Stores would be heresy or blasphemy or some other word ending in “y.”
Anyway, I pulled the story out of the file this morning. I haven’t even dusted it off. Here now is my column, banned in Richmond, Three Things I Hate About Ukrop’s.
Well, I guess I'm treading on sacred ground here, at least among many, if not most, Richmonders. And, by the way, if you're not from or in the Richmond area, this column will mean absolutely nothing to you. But, if you are, then here goes. Like it or not, I'm going to tell you the things I DON'T like about Ukrops. Admittedly, there are things I do like. Who could not like their great customer service? And, as for their prices, well, sometimes they're substantially higher than the other guys, but generally, I feel their prices are fair. But, I’m not here to say nice things. So,here are the things I don't like. (I’m doing this in a countdown style to make it even cooler)
3. No beer or wine sales. Now, it's not that I need a can of Bud Light so badly that I get the shakes when I go into Ukrop's. But, my gripe is with the hypocrisy (more hypocrisy to follow) of claiming to be so driven by Christian ethics that they won't sell alcohol, when they'll sell you all the cigarettes you can cram in your mouth. I've seen pictures of the Last Supper. I know they might not be entirely accurate, but Jesus and his Apostles are drinking wine. I've never seen a picture of them lighting up after enjoying a good meal. I have no beef with someone who, for whatever reason, is against alcohol consumption. I don't think a person can get into trouble by not drinking alcohol. But I find it hard to understand how one can proclaim that smoking tobacco is more acceptable than the moderate drinking of alcohol.
2. No West End's Best or Chesterfield Living Magazines available. Our readers are constantly telling us they have picked up our magazines at Ukrop's. The only problem is, our magazines aren't in Ukrop's. Personally, I wish they were. But, we choose not to put them in their nearly hidden wooden racks when Ukrop's allows Style Weekly, and only Style Weekly, to be in a rack at the entrance. Why only Style? Their official answer is that they have a grandfather clause with Style. I don't understand stupid answers like that. Are they saying, "Hey, grandpa made a dumb decision and we can't change it,"? That wouldn't make any sense. It's like when companies give you the pat answer, "We can't do such and such." I always ask them if they mean they can't do it, or they WON'T do it. If you choose not to do it, then just say so. Don't hide behind a "can't." It's your company, you can do just about anything you want, within reason, of course. What really irritates me about the Style magazine deal is that the back portion of Style magazine is filled with sexually-oriented ads. And, I'm told, by Ukrop's personnel, that Ukrop's is the number one distribution spot for the weekly tabloid. That mean's this Christians-ethics-driven organization is the leading supplier of sexually-oriented materials in Richmond. No beer, mind you, but lots of sex, regardless of your personal sexual orientation. I asked one of the Ukrops brothers how he could justify distributing Style inasmuch as it contained so much filth in the magazine, especially in the classified section in the back. His reply was, "That's why I don't look in the back of Style." Hey, if you can live with that double standard, go right ahead.
1. The main thing I hate about Ukrop's is their bank. Talk about customer service...I consistently get horrible customer service at the Ukrop's banks. Okay, before someone corrects me, I know the bank isn't really run by Ukrop's, but for a company that prides itself on its customer service, and well they should, they made a rotten decision on a banking partner. I had to go into a Ukrop's last Friday, to do some banking. The bank teller was, perhaps, the most unpleasant, unconcerned, uncaring, rude human I've encountered in quite some time. I can't point to one particular thing she did, it was more just a total disdain for the customer. Instead of saying, "May I see your ID," it was "I need to see your driver's license." And she stared at it for so long, I made the off-handed comment that I was glad I hadn't been wearing my turban when the DMV took my picture. She, by the way, failed to see the humor in that. In fact, I have a feeling this woman had never seen the humor in anything for a long time.Without boring you with boring details, I will say I went to the bank with my wife to have my name added to her account. I had been in before, after my wife opened the account, but the bank wouldn't put me on the account unless she was there. Okay, I guess that makes sense. They also won't let her put my paycheck in her account. Even when we both have signed the check, they won't let her deposit it in her account. THAT doesn't make any sense.So, we go in together. We both show our ID; the woman looks at me as if she is thinking I'm some sort of terrorist. After finally deciding that I am who I say I am, she announces, "I have to get approval now."She calls some secret number where someone gives her an approval number. Now, that tells me that I'm approved. Hey, big whoop. Now, I've earned the right to let them take my money. After the approval, the woman demands to see another form of ID. I have it, but I choose not to give it to her. She's already asked for my driver's license. She's already gotten that magical approval number. So, either for the sake of principle, or because I'm a real jerk, I say I won't give it to her. I ask her why I need to do that.I'm ready for the answer. It's the same stupid answer I hear everywhere since September 11, 2001. "For national security," she tells me. I tell her I don't believe it. I tell her that I've opened accounts before without having to have two forms of ID. By the way, she was asking that the second form be a major credit card. My feeling is what right does she have to see my credit card. I'm not going to be using it at the bank. Why should I let someone else have that number? If she'd asked for my library card, I may have been willing.Anyway, she tells me in her oh-so-condescending tone, "Well, the Patriot Act is rather new. Maybe you haven't heard of it.""I've heard of it," I say. "I also remember nine eleven.""So, do you want to be added to your wife's account or not?" she asks."Nope, I choose not to," I say. I know I was a total embarrassment to my wife. I couldn't even give her a good explanation for my conduct, except to say, "I'm looking out for the little guy." How I'm doing that I'm not sure, but somehow I think I am.So, bottom line, it's basically my banking experiences that make me hate Ukrop's. But, I was able to pick up a jug of freshly-squeezed orange juice before I stormed out of the store. So I guess it's not all bad.
Anyway, I pulled the story out of the file this morning. I haven’t even dusted it off. Here now is my column, banned in Richmond, Three Things I Hate About Ukrop’s.
Well, I guess I'm treading on sacred ground here, at least among many, if not most, Richmonders. And, by the way, if you're not from or in the Richmond area, this column will mean absolutely nothing to you. But, if you are, then here goes. Like it or not, I'm going to tell you the things I DON'T like about Ukrops. Admittedly, there are things I do like. Who could not like their great customer service? And, as for their prices, well, sometimes they're substantially higher than the other guys, but generally, I feel their prices are fair. But, I’m not here to say nice things. So,here are the things I don't like. (I’m doing this in a countdown style to make it even cooler)
3. No beer or wine sales. Now, it's not that I need a can of Bud Light so badly that I get the shakes when I go into Ukrop's. But, my gripe is with the hypocrisy (more hypocrisy to follow) of claiming to be so driven by Christian ethics that they won't sell alcohol, when they'll sell you all the cigarettes you can cram in your mouth. I've seen pictures of the Last Supper. I know they might not be entirely accurate, but Jesus and his Apostles are drinking wine. I've never seen a picture of them lighting up after enjoying a good meal. I have no beef with someone who, for whatever reason, is against alcohol consumption. I don't think a person can get into trouble by not drinking alcohol. But I find it hard to understand how one can proclaim that smoking tobacco is more acceptable than the moderate drinking of alcohol.
2. No West End's Best or Chesterfield Living Magazines available. Our readers are constantly telling us they have picked up our magazines at Ukrop's. The only problem is, our magazines aren't in Ukrop's. Personally, I wish they were. But, we choose not to put them in their nearly hidden wooden racks when Ukrop's allows Style Weekly, and only Style Weekly, to be in a rack at the entrance. Why only Style? Their official answer is that they have a grandfather clause with Style. I don't understand stupid answers like that. Are they saying, "Hey, grandpa made a dumb decision and we can't change it,"? That wouldn't make any sense. It's like when companies give you the pat answer, "We can't do such and such." I always ask them if they mean they can't do it, or they WON'T do it. If you choose not to do it, then just say so. Don't hide behind a "can't." It's your company, you can do just about anything you want, within reason, of course. What really irritates me about the Style magazine deal is that the back portion of Style magazine is filled with sexually-oriented ads. And, I'm told, by Ukrop's personnel, that Ukrop's is the number one distribution spot for the weekly tabloid. That mean's this Christians-ethics-driven organization is the leading supplier of sexually-oriented materials in Richmond. No beer, mind you, but lots of sex, regardless of your personal sexual orientation. I asked one of the Ukrops brothers how he could justify distributing Style inasmuch as it contained so much filth in the magazine, especially in the classified section in the back. His reply was, "That's why I don't look in the back of Style." Hey, if you can live with that double standard, go right ahead.
1. The main thing I hate about Ukrop's is their bank. Talk about customer service...I consistently get horrible customer service at the Ukrop's banks. Okay, before someone corrects me, I know the bank isn't really run by Ukrop's, but for a company that prides itself on its customer service, and well they should, they made a rotten decision on a banking partner. I had to go into a Ukrop's last Friday, to do some banking. The bank teller was, perhaps, the most unpleasant, unconcerned, uncaring, rude human I've encountered in quite some time. I can't point to one particular thing she did, it was more just a total disdain for the customer. Instead of saying, "May I see your ID," it was "I need to see your driver's license." And she stared at it for so long, I made the off-handed comment that I was glad I hadn't been wearing my turban when the DMV took my picture. She, by the way, failed to see the humor in that. In fact, I have a feeling this woman had never seen the humor in anything for a long time.Without boring you with boring details, I will say I went to the bank with my wife to have my name added to her account. I had been in before, after my wife opened the account, but the bank wouldn't put me on the account unless she was there. Okay, I guess that makes sense. They also won't let her put my paycheck in her account. Even when we both have signed the check, they won't let her deposit it in her account. THAT doesn't make any sense.So, we go in together. We both show our ID; the woman looks at me as if she is thinking I'm some sort of terrorist. After finally deciding that I am who I say I am, she announces, "I have to get approval now."She calls some secret number where someone gives her an approval number. Now, that tells me that I'm approved. Hey, big whoop. Now, I've earned the right to let them take my money. After the approval, the woman demands to see another form of ID. I have it, but I choose not to give it to her. She's already asked for my driver's license. She's already gotten that magical approval number. So, either for the sake of principle, or because I'm a real jerk, I say I won't give it to her. I ask her why I need to do that.I'm ready for the answer. It's the same stupid answer I hear everywhere since September 11, 2001. "For national security," she tells me. I tell her I don't believe it. I tell her that I've opened accounts before without having to have two forms of ID. By the way, she was asking that the second form be a major credit card. My feeling is what right does she have to see my credit card. I'm not going to be using it at the bank. Why should I let someone else have that number? If she'd asked for my library card, I may have been willing.Anyway, she tells me in her oh-so-condescending tone, "Well, the Patriot Act is rather new. Maybe you haven't heard of it.""I've heard of it," I say. "I also remember nine eleven.""So, do you want to be added to your wife's account or not?" she asks."Nope, I choose not to," I say. I know I was a total embarrassment to my wife. I couldn't even give her a good explanation for my conduct, except to say, "I'm looking out for the little guy." How I'm doing that I'm not sure, but somehow I think I am.So, bottom line, it's basically my banking experiences that make me hate Ukrop's. But, I was able to pick up a jug of freshly-squeezed orange juice before I stormed out of the store. So I guess it's not all bad.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY BLAH BLAH BLAH
Okay, today really is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm going to lose weight. I'm going to take my work seriously. I'm going to treat people better. I'm going to be an all around great guy. Really.
Oh, so you're thinking, "Hey, haven't we heard that before?"
And I'm thinking, "Hmm, are you supposed to put quotation marks around thoughts?"
But to get back to what you're thinking. The answer is, "yes" you have heard me say the same thing before...hundreds of times. But this time is different. And, even though I said "this time is different" several times before, this time I really mean it. And yes, I have even said, "This time I really mean it," before, but you gotta believe me.
I've never said, "This really, really, truly, honest to gosh, really is the first day of the rest of my life," before. So, you see there. I'm one step ahead of you.
But all seriousness aside, I really am going to become a better person. I've had a life-altering experience. Just yesterday, I came this close (picture me holding my thumb and index finger about an inch apart) to death.
What happened, you're wondering, and I know you don't have to put quotation marks around wonderings. Well, I was getting ready to change lanes on the Interstate yesterday. I looked through all my mirrors and even turned around and looked, just like they teach you in driving school when you are sent there to keep from getting a ticket. Anyway, I was sure no one was behind me. So, I switched over to the passing lane.
At the instant I did so, a commercial on the radio played a horn blaring sound. I froze. I kind of did a swerve here and swerve there sort of tactical maneuver, which proved to me that if there had been someone behind me, I'd in all likelihood be very dead today. I didn't handle it well at all.
But, you're thinking, "Steve, if there really was no car coming, you wouldn't be dead."
To which I have to reply, "Yes, you're right. So, there is another reason, I almost died."
And that reason can be summed up in one word, "I was scared to death." Or almost so.
Which brings up the real reason I'm writing all this. Have you ever said, "I was scared to death"? If so, you weren't were you? You see, you couldn't really say it if you had been. I used to say it a lot. But after yesterday I got to thinking that I had better stop saying, "I was scared to death." And I figure as long as I'm going to work on that, I may as well work on my weight and my job and my personality. So you see, today really is the first day of the rest of my life.
Oh, so you're thinking, "Hey, haven't we heard that before?"
And I'm thinking, "Hmm, are you supposed to put quotation marks around thoughts?"
But to get back to what you're thinking. The answer is, "yes" you have heard me say the same thing before...hundreds of times. But this time is different. And, even though I said "this time is different" several times before, this time I really mean it. And yes, I have even said, "This time I really mean it," before, but you gotta believe me.
I've never said, "This really, really, truly, honest to gosh, really is the first day of the rest of my life," before. So, you see there. I'm one step ahead of you.
But all seriousness aside, I really am going to become a better person. I've had a life-altering experience. Just yesterday, I came this close (picture me holding my thumb and index finger about an inch apart) to death.
What happened, you're wondering, and I know you don't have to put quotation marks around wonderings. Well, I was getting ready to change lanes on the Interstate yesterday. I looked through all my mirrors and even turned around and looked, just like they teach you in driving school when you are sent there to keep from getting a ticket. Anyway, I was sure no one was behind me. So, I switched over to the passing lane.
At the instant I did so, a commercial on the radio played a horn blaring sound. I froze. I kind of did a swerve here and swerve there sort of tactical maneuver, which proved to me that if there had been someone behind me, I'd in all likelihood be very dead today. I didn't handle it well at all.
But, you're thinking, "Steve, if there really was no car coming, you wouldn't be dead."
To which I have to reply, "Yes, you're right. So, there is another reason, I almost died."
And that reason can be summed up in one word, "I was scared to death." Or almost so.
Which brings up the real reason I'm writing all this. Have you ever said, "I was scared to death"? If so, you weren't were you? You see, you couldn't really say it if you had been. I used to say it a lot. But after yesterday I got to thinking that I had better stop saying, "I was scared to death." And I figure as long as I'm going to work on that, I may as well work on my weight and my job and my personality. So you see, today really is the first day of the rest of my life.
Monday, July 13, 2009
A BFF IN NEED IS A BFF INDEED
So Paris Hilton is narrowing down the field in her search for a new BFF. I have to admit, and I don't think this is simply an age-difference thing - but isn't that last "F" in "BFF" supposed to mean "forever"?
And didn't she just pick a BFF a year or so ago? I know the English language is constantly changing, but I'd think forever should mean considerably more than a year or so.
Now, I haven't watched the new season. I didn't watch the first season, except for the thrilling climax. And, I'm sure half the nation was tuned in and turned on for that. But my guess would be that there would hardly be anyone who'd want to sign up to be a short term BFF. Imagine the humiliation of being dumped by Paris Hilton.
Now, of course, I may be overlooking some important factors. It could be, and I believe this is totally possible, just from watching Ms. Hilton on TV, it could be that she's just so deep and profound, that even being her Best Friend Forever for a week or so would be too mentally challenging to miss the chance to be selected by her.
I would love to just sit and pick that girl's brain some day. She's definitely got some gray matter, I'm guessing.
And, you know what? I think she might find me equally mentally stimulating. I mean those of you who know me, know how much I enjoy deep, thoughtful discussions on such things as why weathermen never get it right. Or, why apparently sane people continue going back to Food Lion. Or how the gas stations are clever enough to make you think $2.50 a gallon is a great deal.
Paris and I could share a few laughs over that one, I'd think. I believe that I should have applied for the position.
I can just see the two of us jetting across the globe, discussing the McNeil Lehrer report and trying to figure out which one is dead. I used to have the same problem with Huntley and Brinkley until they were both dead. That helped a lot.
Some people would scoff to think that two people who, on the surface, are so different, as Paris and I, could have become BFFs. "She just wants you for your looks," some would suggest. But I think not.
I think we could make quite a team. For instance, I could regale her with the fact that two of my favorite TV shows are Mental and the Mentalist. "That's so ironic," she would laugh.
To which I would respond, "I never knew just what ironic meant, but I think you're right."
We could discuss fashion trends. I would ask her to critique my choice of plaid polyester pants delightfully paired with a black and white flannel shirt. "How do you like my sandals and black knee-high support socks," I would ask her sincerely.
"Couldn't you just get lost in my eyes?" she would respond in great depth.
I know I'm getting on a tangent here. I'll try and control myself. Actually this blog is going in an entirely different direction than what I had anticipated when I began.
But, now that I think of it. I believe Paris Hilton could truly be my BFF. That is until I decided to dump her.
And didn't she just pick a BFF a year or so ago? I know the English language is constantly changing, but I'd think forever should mean considerably more than a year or so.
Now, I haven't watched the new season. I didn't watch the first season, except for the thrilling climax. And, I'm sure half the nation was tuned in and turned on for that. But my guess would be that there would hardly be anyone who'd want to sign up to be a short term BFF. Imagine the humiliation of being dumped by Paris Hilton.
Now, of course, I may be overlooking some important factors. It could be, and I believe this is totally possible, just from watching Ms. Hilton on TV, it could be that she's just so deep and profound, that even being her Best Friend Forever for a week or so would be too mentally challenging to miss the chance to be selected by her.
I would love to just sit and pick that girl's brain some day. She's definitely got some gray matter, I'm guessing.
And, you know what? I think she might find me equally mentally stimulating. I mean those of you who know me, know how much I enjoy deep, thoughtful discussions on such things as why weathermen never get it right. Or, why apparently sane people continue going back to Food Lion. Or how the gas stations are clever enough to make you think $2.50 a gallon is a great deal.
Paris and I could share a few laughs over that one, I'd think. I believe that I should have applied for the position.
I can just see the two of us jetting across the globe, discussing the McNeil Lehrer report and trying to figure out which one is dead. I used to have the same problem with Huntley and Brinkley until they were both dead. That helped a lot.
Some people would scoff to think that two people who, on the surface, are so different, as Paris and I, could have become BFFs. "She just wants you for your looks," some would suggest. But I think not.
I think we could make quite a team. For instance, I could regale her with the fact that two of my favorite TV shows are Mental and the Mentalist. "That's so ironic," she would laugh.
To which I would respond, "I never knew just what ironic meant, but I think you're right."
We could discuss fashion trends. I would ask her to critique my choice of plaid polyester pants delightfully paired with a black and white flannel shirt. "How do you like my sandals and black knee-high support socks," I would ask her sincerely.
"Couldn't you just get lost in my eyes?" she would respond in great depth.
I know I'm getting on a tangent here. I'll try and control myself. Actually this blog is going in an entirely different direction than what I had anticipated when I began.
But, now that I think of it. I believe Paris Hilton could truly be my BFF. That is until I decided to dump her.
Friday, April 17, 2009
It's A Brand New Day
I think that's from Disney's Pocahontas. Although it might be from Les Miserables. I get those two mixed up sometimes. Anyway, i think it clearly expresses my sentiments. My life has changed since we last spoke. If you don't remember speaking, see http://www.stevecookramblings.blogspot.com/. Of course, I did most of the speaking.
As I said, my life has changed. I nearly died from what doctors are describing as the worst case of acute hypochondria ever recorded. On top of that, they tell me, I have severe neuroses. However, personally, the rash is barely visible.
But I digress. And, let me tell you, it's hard to digress before you even get started, but somehow, I've managed to do it.
So much has happened since I did my last blog, which I like to refer to as a column. America has elected it's blackest president. I don't think it's proper to say it's first black President, inasmuch as other presidents have, no doubt, had some black blood in them. I remember reading several years ago that Abraham Lincoln's grandmother or great grandmother (or maybe his wife's friend's schoolteacher's grandmother) was a slave. If that's so, then certainly Lincoln was part black. Obama is, of course, part black. And, in all likelihood, more black than any other President.
I'm sure Obama is as qualified as just about anyone else. Although I think, in general, the leadership ability of humans in general has deteriorated over the years. But, I have to believe that the main reason Obama is President is that he makes white folks feel good about themselves
Have you noticed how Americans, white Americans have been falling all over themselves, congratulating themselves on electing a black man. Barack Obama is certainly a man, who asides from political ideology, it would be hard to find fault with. He's good looking (in a manly sort of way). He's intelligent. He has a nice voice, somewhat like Ric Flair's. He has an attractive family. And he really, really wanted to be President. I'm sure if he'd had a lot of skeletons in his closet, they would have been found.
The fact that he used to hang out with terrorists doesn't seem to matter so much these days. So, with that off the table, what reason not to have him as President. Especially when you consider that he really, really wanted the job.
So us white folk can feel proud of ourselves. It's kind of funny when you think about it. At a time when people should be talking about how far the black man has come, I hear more people talking about how far the white man has come, in electing a black man.
I've long held this belief that Obama's success is that he makes white folks feel good about themselves. And, now, that brilliant actress, Janeane Garofalo has proven me right.
Her comments about the tea parties being primarily supported by white racists who hate having a black President are very telling. Don't you see, Janeane is scared. She's scared that black people might start thinking white people are racists again, if they ever stopped. She's scared that if white people criticize the President, it's not because they have honest disagreements with his policies. It has to be because we whities just ain't ever gonna trust the black man.
But, the truth is, the way I see it, the folks, black and white and anything else, who took part in the peaceful tea parties, aren't thinking about race at all. Personally, I think Barack Obama looks more presidential than just about any President we've had in my lifetime.
The tea party attendees didn't, as far as I could see, promote any racial issues. I didn't notice any race-oriented signage. I didn't hear any of those extremists on Fox suggesting that a cross be burned at the parties.
So, who's thinking about race. Janeane Garofalo is. And, I suspect, so are a lot of those who agree with her. Such as that imbecile, Keith Oberman, who did all he could to supress the giggles while interviewing Garofolo. To quote Shakespeare, kind of, I thinks perhaps the lady doth protest too much.
So, rather than let the MSNBC crowd anger you, just take a moment to sympathize with these poor folks. They know that intellectually blacks are equal to whites, but, in their hearts, they have a hard time feeling it. They'd like to be viewed as intellectuals and progressives. In fact they want it so much that they elect one of the most unprepared politicians in the country to be the President in an effort prove how open-minded they are.
And now, you protesters you...you've messed it all up. Can't you just be quiet and let these white people alone. Just let them continue to feel good about themselves. Let them believe they're not racists. After all, isn't that what Janeane Garofalo really, really wants?
As I said, my life has changed. I nearly died from what doctors are describing as the worst case of acute hypochondria ever recorded. On top of that, they tell me, I have severe neuroses. However, personally, the rash is barely visible.
But I digress. And, let me tell you, it's hard to digress before you even get started, but somehow, I've managed to do it.
So much has happened since I did my last blog, which I like to refer to as a column. America has elected it's blackest president. I don't think it's proper to say it's first black President, inasmuch as other presidents have, no doubt, had some black blood in them. I remember reading several years ago that Abraham Lincoln's grandmother or great grandmother (or maybe his wife's friend's schoolteacher's grandmother) was a slave. If that's so, then certainly Lincoln was part black. Obama is, of course, part black. And, in all likelihood, more black than any other President.
I'm sure Obama is as qualified as just about anyone else. Although I think, in general, the leadership ability of humans in general has deteriorated over the years. But, I have to believe that the main reason Obama is President is that he makes white folks feel good about themselves
Have you noticed how Americans, white Americans have been falling all over themselves, congratulating themselves on electing a black man. Barack Obama is certainly a man, who asides from political ideology, it would be hard to find fault with. He's good looking (in a manly sort of way). He's intelligent. He has a nice voice, somewhat like Ric Flair's. He has an attractive family. And he really, really wanted to be President. I'm sure if he'd had a lot of skeletons in his closet, they would have been found.
The fact that he used to hang out with terrorists doesn't seem to matter so much these days. So, with that off the table, what reason not to have him as President. Especially when you consider that he really, really wanted the job.
So us white folk can feel proud of ourselves. It's kind of funny when you think about it. At a time when people should be talking about how far the black man has come, I hear more people talking about how far the white man has come, in electing a black man.
I've long held this belief that Obama's success is that he makes white folks feel good about themselves. And, now, that brilliant actress, Janeane Garofalo has proven me right.
Her comments about the tea parties being primarily supported by white racists who hate having a black President are very telling. Don't you see, Janeane is scared. She's scared that black people might start thinking white people are racists again, if they ever stopped. She's scared that if white people criticize the President, it's not because they have honest disagreements with his policies. It has to be because we whities just ain't ever gonna trust the black man.
But, the truth is, the way I see it, the folks, black and white and anything else, who took part in the peaceful tea parties, aren't thinking about race at all. Personally, I think Barack Obama looks more presidential than just about any President we've had in my lifetime.
The tea party attendees didn't, as far as I could see, promote any racial issues. I didn't notice any race-oriented signage. I didn't hear any of those extremists on Fox suggesting that a cross be burned at the parties.
So, who's thinking about race. Janeane Garofalo is. And, I suspect, so are a lot of those who agree with her. Such as that imbecile, Keith Oberman, who did all he could to supress the giggles while interviewing Garofolo. To quote Shakespeare, kind of, I thinks perhaps the lady doth protest too much.
So, rather than let the MSNBC crowd anger you, just take a moment to sympathize with these poor folks. They know that intellectually blacks are equal to whites, but, in their hearts, they have a hard time feeling it. They'd like to be viewed as intellectuals and progressives. In fact they want it so much that they elect one of the most unprepared politicians in the country to be the President in an effort prove how open-minded they are.
And now, you protesters you...you've messed it all up. Can't you just be quiet and let these white people alone. Just let them continue to feel good about themselves. Let them believe they're not racists. After all, isn't that what Janeane Garofalo really, really wants?
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