Charlie Brown used to be a media star, someone that everyone knew and talked about. He was hapless and made us smile. We saw a bit of ourselves in him.
Now it’s Harambe, a Three-year-old Boy, and the Boy’s momma whose voice is heard on the endless iPhone video play.
While Harambe received near-instant death, the boy’s momma got death threats…near-instantly, from people throughout the USA.
Have you perused Facebook, Twitter, Yelp lately?!? Acrimony and antagonism prevail. Willingly, blithely aired across every page!
Led by a media star who’s successfully waged war on the concept of political correctness and may bcome our Hater-in-Chief.
Or is he just riding the tide, surfing the wave, saying what everyone used to say in their diary, under their breath, or write to toss in the trash?
Compliments, kindness, wisdom. Where have these positive attributes fled? While I was never a whole-hearted adherent of political correctness, my momma did teach me good taste.
Empathy, cooperation, and manners flung aside like yesterday’s fashions, like chaff into the winds of change.
As if God’s gigantic blender of humankind hasn’t got time for cream to rise to the top. As if all of this churn-and-burn has a point. Jee-many Christmas! No one’s going to get Christmas/Kwanza/Hannukah gifts at this rate!
Every human craves validation. But the unusual has become the usual way: doing or saying something so outrageous, so conniving, so chilling as to seem inhumane. It’s outlandish. It’s unfair.
It’s apparent that the reaction elicited by the craven word or deed has replaced validation by good words or deeds.
I’m not going to follow suit; I am going to suit myself.
I tried to live life in the fast lane, working for all I was worth to please… but it seems that I’m an off-road vehicle, a salmon swimming freely, upstream.
Away from the sharks. I will not, I can not engage. My suit is true blue.
Have I intertwined enough cliches for you? It’s the ploy of the day to help me escape the suit of cynicism and snark that is threatening to hang in my closet https://www.pjcolando.com/my-closeted-self/, that a citizen majority seems to wear as national armor. Pride, bombast reign.
There are no phone booths left.
Is it any wonder that Marvel comics are the rage? Even Captain America and Ironman are turning on each other in movies theaters these days. This is not super, man.