Not too long ago, a friend honestly-joked1 that I am a contrarian. And I have to admit, it was a brilliant set-up. Because guess how you deny being a contrarian. Exactly. “Am not” is oxygen to an open flame.2
I got to thinking; a hobby done best while whittling vanilla wafers into suggestive animal cracker couplings. And after eating a cookie shaped like a zebra chumbawamping a goat and one of a liger tubthumping a hippo, I reached a thought.
I think I might be a contrarian, am 100% sure that I’m sardonic and swear that like Panic! at the Disco writes sins and not tragedies, I write protest songs and not lullabies.
Since the title of this here blog is the Change I Wish to See, you’d think the archives would be stuffed full of Gandhi-inspired rhetoric, Care Bear rainbows and hunger strike pledges. Yet, so far, no dice on any of that. Instead, you’re more likely to read a post in which I wonder why Gandhi didn’t speak up for himself more or I coerce Funshine and Cheer Bear into hunger strikes to protest the bastardization of the lovable bear industry by companies like Vermont Teddy Bear Co.3
I can’t help it. It’s the change I want to see, not the change that happened a while ago and therefore makes this blog so 2000 and late. It’s about telling Houston we have a problem.
I thought that maybe I should write a post that would break my stride; something that detailed a few things I unabashedly love; to switch it up a little; to take off this Stormy Monday underwear I’ve been wearing for days and put on a fresh pair. Obviously, my love for animated movies came to mind. But then I remembered that I even wrote a post telling Little Foot to take his job and shove it. I told Little Foot, hero before time, that he was washed up.
[insert pause, while I pour one out for my homie Little Foot's storied career]
Apparently, a long, long time ago, some obnoxious little kid’s mom said “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” and the little brat saw fit to take that personalized attempt to shut him and only him up, spread it like the pig flu (aka “the plu“) and now we’re stuck with it centuries later.
But I don’t believe in that.
Complaining is good for the soul. Like the best chicken soup, it’s homemade, salty and clears your chest of stuff that was in your head but sank lower and lower over time as you failed to blow it out.
I have made New Year’s resolution after resolution to complain less the next year. I have broken New Year’s resolution after resolution to complain less the next year. I think I am complaining about those broken resolutions right now.
But I’ve decided to let the circle be unbroken.
I like jokes. And ever since a 5 hour car trip with my dad 9 years ago when he popped in a tape of “jokes appropriate for the workplace” and replayed it when it finished and I tried to rip my drums from my ears, I decided humor a) shouldn’t suck nearly that hard and b) that the best jokes have a hint of bitterness to them.
So usually I have nothing nice to say. Thank god. Because if I did, I’d be Tony Robbins and would hate my life with the fury of a thousand blueballed virgins.
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1You know, a joke that starts out funny for the idea of it, then becomes humorous for its truth, then becomes a point of personal reflection.
2In retrospect, I should’ve dropped an “I’m rubber, you’re glue…” but hindsight is for assholes.4
3Though, Vermont Teddy Bear Co., I will gladly follow the latest FTC rules and admit you’ve sent me plush products to review if you so choose.
4FN 2 contains arguably the worst pun ever.
Oh Little Foot. I loved that movie. And then they made 20 more of them and I want to punch myself in the face every time I see one.
I am totally with you on this one. Getting things off your chest and pointing out inconsistencies in life are important parts of living successfully. Happy-go-lucky people who never complain? Are wretchedly miserable internally.
Those of us who embrace our strengths (in your case, bad puns and protest songs) are the ones who learn to be happy.
And how dare you waste beer on a cartoon dinosaur. I totally would have drank that.
I like that. Complaining via bad puns is my path to happiness.
And it wasn’t a beer. It was a 40; malt liquor. But you’re right: still should’ve drank it or passed it on.
Complaining *is* good for the soul. I agree 100%.
I do still feel a tiny bit bad for Little Foot, though.
I know. I do, too. It’s not his fault. He’s being pimped by the system.
“Complaining is good for the soul. Like the best chicken soup, it’s homemade, salty and clears your chest of stuff that was in your head but sank lower and lower over time as you failed to blow it out.” Honestly, I might quote you on this. Because it’s awesome and soooo on point.
I read this much more as a revelation than a rant. Not quite Ghandi-style, but revelatory all the same.
Me = flattered and glad you liked it.
I’m with you. I also like to complain a lot. Who would change all the things that need changing if no one complained about it? Oh, and I think that 99% of the population are a bunch of morons. Is that wrong?
It is not. It can’t be. It just can’t be.
I enjoy complaining. I am very good at it. People that don’t complain kind of scare me. Like they’re going to one day explode and bring down a raging hellfire on us all.
Assholes.
Yep. Gotta let it out. Besides, it’s usually much funnier than not complaining.
One of the Care Bears is really named Funshine Bear?
Absolutely.
Complaining is the spice of life. If we didn’t do it, how would we know what else is out there?
Exactly. My complaining is explorative.
As a stage manager I hear nothing but complaining. It’s what people do.
i complain in jest. it feels good to joke about lifes annoyances.
I use to have the rainbow Care Bear.
Nothing to do with this post, but I just wanted to mention that.
I don’t like when you use big words.
“When you are complaining you become a living, breathing crap magnet.” ~~T. Harv Eker
I am a firm believer in venting. It is how I cope in life and a good joke!!!
“Contrarian” has become my new favorite word recently, though I’ve been mercilessly teased for the way I pronounce “contrary,” so I’m avoiding that one entirely.
Also, you are one of my favorite writers ever. Mean it.
Oh dear heavens, this post makes my cold, black heart so happy…on a number of levels
A) I am certain that people who don’t complain are either over medicated or too stupid to see the truth of things.
B) I severed ties with the loveable bear industry after one Christmas in the early 80’s when I ate too many olives and puked all over the green bear. Seemed his luck had run out.
C) “Hindsight is for assholes”= pure gold.