It's like a societal disease. Can't do it? That's okay. Being a wuss is acceptable. The government will take care of you, or your parents, or you can just spend more of your ill-gotten cash on some more drugs to make you happy.
Meanwhile, those that work, and those that come from other countries, do the hard work, which requires rising early, living frugally and keeping the determination to not be handicapped by life. They do the jobs that "you just can't get Americans to do".
Where does it end? I have no idea, but it can't be a good ending.
I look at the unnatural amount of fat people waddling through their days and wonder about the decisions that led to their condition. Is it just too hard? Have you accepted mediocrity because others have? Are you proud of what you've become? Why don't you nut up and make the steps to be something more than a health risk?
What about those that game the system and steal from taxpayers? Have they lost their conscience? How about their friends and family? Don't they feel embarrassed? Why don't they something?
Then we come to the government:. Mostly worthless slugs rationalizing their ridiculous existence and having the ridiculous thought they're relevant. To add insult to injury, they believe we should take care of them forever because of the irrelevancy.
So, the proliferation of wusses continues. As I age, I become less tolerant and more vocal. I might end up getting my ass whipped, but I doubt it. Pushing sixty, I'm still in better shape than way too many people much younger than me. Besides that, I'm meaner, more tired and reaching the point I really don't give a shit if I hurt their tender feelings.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.