These days, you can’t swing a proverbial dead cat without hitting someone who’s enraged about something.
Not that I’ve ever swung a dead cat. I really don’t understand that idiom, anyway. Why would you want to swing a dead cat? Was that really a thing once?
And I’ve considered the possibility that the enraged people I’m talking about might very well be enraged because I just hit them in the face with a proverbial dead cat, and I should be more careful. That’s valid.
But back to my point. A lot of you are self-righteously angry right now, about everything and nothing at the same time, and you all just need to settle down for a while. I mean it. It’s not healthy.
I’m not an expert in mental health, and I haven’t talked to any experts in mental health, but I’m sure if I did they’d tell me that it isn’t healthy for everyone to be so angry all the time, right after they knee me in groin and call me a braggart.
I can sense it right now. I haven’t even finished this column yet and I can tell that there are cat-lovers and mental health experts out their already composing angry letters telling me that I can go straight to H-E-double-hockey-sticks for my totally uninformed opinions about the work they care so much about.
Hey, I’m not counting myself out of the equation, here. I’m too darn angry, too. Just last week, I used some strong and unprintable words to bawl out a salesman who had made a mistake in handling a substantial purchase I had made. I did have a right, in my mind, to be upset, however the guy was trying to apologize for the mistake, and I interrupted him and let him have it. And afterward, I felt terrible about it. Why so angry, James? The guy’s just trying to get by, just like me.
A lot of people try to tell me it’s the politics of the day. Whatever your political opinion is, if you share it, someone has to immediately let you know in no uncertain terms how unbelievably stupid you are, as if you didn’t already know you were stupid. We’re all stupid, buddy. It makes us feel better, though, to let someone else know that we are slightly less stupid than they are.
I’ve had some of these political exchanges, and no matter how good anyone’s point is, they are essentially pointless. Nothing is accomplished. We know this, but we can’t resist posting that comment, anyway, can we? The pigs are in the mud, and we’ve got to dive in there and wrestle with those pigs, and everyone gets so muddy that no one can tell who the pigs are.
And now, all the pig-lovers out there are composing their angry letters, along with a few representatives of the pork producing industry. You know nothing about pigs, you dumb writer-guy. That’s what they’re going to tell me. I’m stupid, when it comes to pigs. And they’ll be right. I really am woefully uninformed on the topic of pigs. Shame on me.
It isn’t just politics, though. I can make a conscious, deliberate effort to avoid politics altogether, and that proverbial dead cat will still whack someone in the head.
You can’t share basic information about current events. Do yourself a disfavor sometime and check out any Facebook post that shares actual facts and information regarding COVID-19. Read the comments. It’s a brutal civil war between the states of Half-Wit-Land and Moron-itaville. It’s just a list of facts, people. It’s innocuous. Being angry about them won’t change them. Read them, or don’t. Learn something, or don’t. Move on. Settle down.
You can’t discuss sports. The Minnesota Vikings, my favorite NFL team, has been terrible this season. That’s just a fact. They lost again on Sunday, but they played a little better, and I commented about it on social media, trying to be a little positive in this moment of Viking dread. I immediately learned that I am a complete loser, a Pollyanna who obviously knows nothing about football and nothing about the Minnesota Vikings and I would be doing the world a favor if I jumped off a ledge. And those were the supportive replies, from the people who agreed with me.
You can’t discuss music. A friend on Facebook was making fun of an old Air Supply song in a post. I’m no fan of Air Supply by any stretch of the imagination. They were cheesy balladeers from Australia who had a bunch of sugary hits in the early 80s, but I actually like that song. Heck, I like a little bit of just about any kind of music.
I expressed that opinion, knowledgeably and politely. My friend was real cool about it, and we had a couple of laughs. Some of his friends, though, who I’ve never met, decided that I needed some schooling, and a firm talking to, because they don’t like a song that I like. It was unbelievably condescending. I’m like, whatever, dude. Show me on the doll where Air Supply hurt you. I like the movie “Space Jam,” too. I’m artistically unrefined, I guess. Have at me.
And speaking of movies, never go on Twitter and let the world know that you actually enjoyed the last Star Wars movie. I did. It seems as though there’s a contract on my life, now, financed by some very bitter people. How dare I enjoy something that they did not? In fact, some who attacked me watched that movie seven or eight times, just so they could find more things they hated about it. They are that dedicated to being angry at people who liked it.
I guess my only point is, we’re all too angry, about everything and nothing. I don’t know why, but let’s just try to stop it. It’s not cool.
I’ll let you go, now, so you can finish ripping me a new one in that rage-filled email you’re writing. Have at me. Give me your best shot.
You’re definitely slightly less stupid than I am. Wear that badge with pride.