The crying game

Life is complicated. I like to be friendly and peaceable, and I shrink from doing harm to others. I don’t go out of my way to make people feel bad. If most of the people that know me ever read what I write, they’d be shocked and horrified. I’m soft spoken and congenial. Every now and then I let a cutting remark slip, but I’ll be careful not to say anything too offensive or controversial. The most insulting comments I make tend to be about myself.

I often disagree with other people’s opinions, but I don’t think it’s worthwhile to voice that disagreement. People don’t react well to being contradicted or challenged. It’s just easier to keep the conversation moving towards a more agreeable topic than stand your ground and make people uncomfortable for no constructive purpose.

But the way people are reacting to the election is pushing me in a different direction. I can only take so much of adults acting like children. Shamelessly announcing how much they’ve cried, displaying their weakness and cowardice to the world like it’s broad chested virtue.

I have friends I’ve known for years, old friends, guys who used to be hilarious sons of bitches, talk about how scared they are, how they’ve cried, how they’re angry and offended and shocked and disgusted and appalled. Over and over again with the fear. They’re making such an elaborate, contrived show of their goddamn fear. It’s so fucking scary, it’s a horror show, a fucking election with voting and a peaceful transfer of power.

Grown ass men are bawling and blubbering like babies with shit in their diapers and neglected ass rashes. Like their pacifiers have been ripped from their teething gums. Like their mothers didn’t put a cookie in their sack lunches.

What’s even more amusing is how they pivot from being dickless, sobbing bitch boys to acting hard. With snot still streaming down their faces they offer their limp wristed support to everyone who isn’t a straight white man. You know, those swaths of the population headed directly for gas chambers, ovens, and firing squads. The straight white men are going to barbecue minorities. Only a coalition of micro penises, paraplegics and trannies can stop them.

There are segments of the left that careen wildly from complete pussy to trash talking tough guy. “I’ll stand up to the fascists, I’m so afraid but I’ll fight the sexists, racists, homophobes, transphobes, islamophobes, I’ll crack their skulls.” Sure you will.

I still don’t want to go out of my way to provoke or upset people. But I’m finding it increasingly difficult to pretend that I’m here to comfort the afflicted. I don’t know how much longer I can act like all the public wailing, the morose, dramatic and histrionic behavior isn’t embarrassing and unfit for mature adults.

Something has happened to the general level of maturity in the world. This is partially coming out of my ass because I’ve lived in no other time, but jesus christ we have to be on a steep decline here. This isn’t even about politics. It’s not about what you believe or what you want for this country. It’s about not acting like a fucking six year old and composing yourself with dignity in public.

I’m working the register at a coffee shop and I’m giving people the usual pleasantries: “How’s it going?” And they respond like you just shot their dog. They shit all over our interaction for no real reason. You’re at a boutique, specialty third wave coffee shop, you’re getting a tasty cup of energy juice and a dense, sugary pastry that we will heat up for you on request.

From there you’re going to your make believe job as a consultant or art director or analyst, fueled by top of the line coffee and baked goods. But you need to stand in front of me and choke back tears to order your soy latte?

Trump and Pence aren’t coming to bulldoze your bathhouses or knock down your glory hole stalls. And I’m not here to assuage your fear, soothe your anxiety, or change your diaper.

Author: The Empty Subject

Born curmudgeon

2 thoughts on “The crying game”

  1. This is what you get when people are given trophies for everything their whole lives. No comprehension of how to lose, and lose with grace. No character, just feelings.

    1. I didn’t vote for Trump. But it’s not enough to appease the hysterical child voter crowd. This is so true that you must publicly demonstrate your fearfulness. I think it’s rooted in the feminine imperative where you bear your feelings to solve problems and get pussy and then the opposite happens. It is contrived and self defeating. Who would follow such pansies to do anything? If you can’t make it through coffee without going sadboy, how can you change and run the country? I find myself rooting more and more for Trump to succeed. Never made the election into an existential issue. I live my life and don’t really care what they so. How can you? Some black guy wrote an article in GQ about how angry he was with white liberal Clinton voter guys who were upset with the election. Why? Because according to him, their life can go on as though nothing happened. Even though they are demonstrably upset. Apparently, his cant, despite being a college educated professional writer in a first world nation. It’s never enough. Oh, and where were these tears and protests when Obama was droning teenagers and data mining your porn preferences for the last 8 years? It’s a status show. Man pillows weep into their girlfriends shoulders on live television. If only they knew how women really subconsiously view that shit. Also terrible watching Portlanders rioting in a country that had a free election and a fair contest. Never Enough.

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