Just a Theory: A short journey to Lookin In (PART 1)

Weeks ago, the guys from JUST A THEORY got together.  It's been years since we've been together, so this day was to see if we knew one of our tunes well enough to hit the studio.  There's one aspect of one of the band members that was a constant during our playing days and still remains.  This video touches on it a bit as we have some fun with it.

https://youtu.be/kAOM4yEwdgg

Years ago, my friends and I formed a band and called it JUST A THEORY   
We played for years and had a blast, but it's been a while since we played.
In a little while we'll be going into the studio to record one of our songs.
We're filming it and be sharing our short journey (because we have no idea how
it's going to turn out)
If you're curious on what's going to happen, join the club.
It'll be a short ride, but it ought to be interesting.

Farewell Puppy

                I never intended to have a dog, pretty much for the same reasons why I never expected to have a kid.  With my schedule, my work, and in all honesty, my selfishness, I knew I wouldn’t have the time or give enough attention that would be needed to make that child or dog happy.  But in 2000, I got one.  I didn’t go searching for one, she sort of fell into our laps.  She was given to my mother-in-law because the owner couldn’t care for her.  My inlaw didn’t have the room for her, but wanted to make sure the pup had a life.  The times I would visit, the pup, a beautiful collie/sheepdog, would be in a fenced in area in the backyard.  It was a big area, but I could feel the solitude.  She was so sweet.  I would go the fence and gently pet her and look into those beautiful eyes.  I honestly spent more time with the dog than I did visiting the family.  It was never easy leaving. 

                After much consideration, we decided to bring her home.  Despite my fears of not being able to give her the attention she so desperately wanted, I knew we’d be able to give her more than she was receiving at that time.  Plus she would have a much bigger backyard in which to roam, so I knew she would be happier.  (This really isn’t easy for me.  At this very moment of writing, except for the last paragraph, she is still with us.  I feel it’s only a few weeks, and I wanted to write this now because I won’t be able to afterwards).  She immediately took to her new home.  As if she’d been imprisoned, she took to her backyard with glee and her inquisitive nature had her roaming all over.  She was in heaven.

                The years flew by and there are so many movies in my head where she’s the star.  Lined along the perimeter of our backyard, right next to wall, were all kinds of trees and plants.  There wasn’t really a way to get back there in some places, especially for humans, but she had made herself a little path, right along the perimeter.  Maybe it was sheepdog in her, an instinct to ensure that everything was safe, but she would walk that path every now and then.  She would walk that path, and then stop at a lavender plant and smell.  She loved smelling that plant, just standing there for a few seconds to enjoy its aroma, and then continue her walk. 

                There was a time in my life where I would go out back and run lines.  Not rehearse a script, for all my actor friends out there, but in basketball practice, you’d start at one line, run to the next and run back, and continue to the next furthest line and back.  It wasn’t easy at first, because she would run with me and sometimes get in my way.  She learned quickly to make sure she was out of the way, and before long she would just go to her blanket and sit down to watch me. 

                She was a hunter.  Lizards, birds, gophers, you name it, she hunted it and there were quite a few times we’d find one of those dead near her house.  She loved catching lizards, but hated the taste.  There were a few times when we would see her catch one and she’d make such a face afterwards, we’d laugh.  Watching her go into hunting mode was so cool.  She’d be sitting there and then all of a sudden, her ears would perk up and her eyes would hone in on a lizard on the wall.  Slowly getting up, she’d sit still for several minutes, then slowly take one step.  Focused and intent, she stayed for a few moments, and then take another step.  I swear it would be a ten minute exercise.  Moving as stealthily as possible, she would close in on her prey and then pounce.  More often than not, the prey escaped, but she had her fair share.

                She was also a bit of a snob.  She loved playing ball, but only a few times.  After getting the ball a couple of times, she was done.  She would either stop going after the ball, or pick up the ball and go into her house.  Talk about grabbing your ball and going home, she was over it.  One time, my friend kept pulling the ball out of her mouth and throwing it.  I guess she liked that ball because she would go get it, but would not go back to him.  He then followed her and did it again.  This time she chased the ball down and ran into her house.  It was a big house, and she went in there deep, so unless you got on your knees, you couldn’t see her.  Anyhow, my friend reached in and started reaching for the ball.  I can still see this, but from my angle all I saw was her paw come out and slap his hand. 

                Her snobbishness was also seen when we tried to bring her a friend.  We thought that maybe she was lonely, so we brought her a companion.  By this time it was about 2007, so she had 7 years of having the backyard to herself.  She did not take to that poor dog at all.  That poor dog was so friendly and wanted love so badly, and my Pup wouldn’t give her the time of day.  The dog would follow her, but Pup hardly acknowledged her.  That dog was bigger and more high maintenance and after a few days, we realized it wasn’t going to work.  They were already starting to get territorial, so we gave that dog away.  Yes, Puppy was a snob.

                She was also very smart.  For the longest time, she was strictly outdoors, but that changed after a few thunderstorms.  Poor thing, she got so frightened with those and fireworks.  I didn’t realize how much until one day when we were leaving in the morning, and opening the front door, found her right there.  She had been so scared, she clawed her way through the fence and huddled right against the front door.  I felt so bad.  I didn’t even hear the thunder, and she was so quiet, she never barked unless there were strangers around.  From then on, she would come inside, and she knew how to work it.  Not allowed on the furniture, she would get a bit scared and jump into my lap, knowing I was not about to push her off.  That accomplished, she had access to the furniture as well.  Eventually she had her own chair.  But sleeping outside, she knew when it was time to go to bed when I’d turn off my cell phone.  She’d hear that sound, she’d walk over to the door.  In the last years of living at that house, we’d leave the door to the garage just a bit ajar, and she’d walk over to it and with her paw, open the door and walk into the garage where she’d have access to the outside through her doggie door.  She would walk in and out whenever she wanted. 

                In the last few months, she began dragging her back paw from arthritis, and being 15, there wasn’t much we could do.  Some medicine to help ease the pain, but that’s about all we could do.  We would put a sock on that paw so she wouldn’t scrape and bleed.  Fully indoors for the past few years, we would go out back occasionally to walk around.  Walking behind her as she limped has not been easy.  I can still see her when I would come home and she would jump all over.  I would say, “Let’s run” and we’d take off in the back, running all over the yard.  She would run behind the shed and come tearing out, running with and past me.  Now, limping around the pool, she’ll stop and catch a glimpse of a lizard.  The hunter in her springs up, but though the spirit is there, the body isn’t, and she moves on. 

                That was my Ladie.  That was her given name, though I’d rarely call her that.  She was always Puppy, and she would listen.  Like a parent, if I used her given name, she was in trouble.  About 6 years ago, my wife would say that she’s not a puppy anymore and that she’s getting old, but I would resist such talk.  But I knew she spoke truth, and the past few months, that has shown that to be even more apparent.  She wouldn’t turn when I’d call her, and though she was a snob, I knew wasn’t ignoring me, but that her hearing was beginning to go, especially after she had no problems with recent thunderstorms and fireworks. 

                The past few months have been hard.  As I’ve seen her body wearing down, I have many regrets.  I wish I had given her more time, more attention.  I wish I wouldn’t scare her during Laker games when I’d yell at the TV.  I wish I’d have just had her indoors since day one.  She was the sweetest thing who loved pizza and carrots, who was so happy when I’d come home, who, in this last year, would try to herd us away from the door to keep us from leaving, who gave us the first indication that there was a ghost in our house (that’s another blog entry), and who was always curious on what we were doing.  She was my Pup, and she knew it.  I couldn’t say no to her.  There was so much sweetness in her eyes that I wanted her to be happy.

                Today I had to put my Pup down.  All I wanted to do was drop her at the vets and leave.  But there’s no way I could do that.  She hated that place, and I didn’t want her last moments to be all alone in a place she hated.  Last night she got everything she loved; her treats, pizza, yogurt, and ice cream.  And it was so hard this morning because she was so alert, her ears up and checking out everything.  But I could see the pain, and she could no longer walk, so carrying her into a room where I’d last see her was something I did for her:  to end her pain and to be with her in her final moments.  And as I held her, in those final moments as she laid down, her eyes, those beautiful eyes that would look at me with so much love, those eyes that would curiously look at everything around her, the life drained from those beautiful eyes and I knew my time as a dog owner was done.  I’m not going to say anything inane as I have a sense of parenthood, and I don’t have a clue on animals and the afterlife.  All I’ll say is that when she first came to our house she ran around like she was in heaven, and I hope that when her life slipped from my arms, she began running in heaven.  

Goodbye my Pup, you were the absolute best.

Who are you?

It’s a question that’s not being posed to you as it were coming from me.  As if you came up to me, and I asked, “Who are you?  And what do you want?”  It’s a question you ask the reflection when you look at the mirror each morning.  That’s of course assuming you look at the mirror in the morning.  That’s a pretty safe assumption though, as I’m sure some of you might spend too much time looking in the mirror.  I’m obviously kidding, but it’s a question I feel we’re not asking ourselves enough. 

When I say enough, I really question as to how many times we look at ourselves and ask who we are.  Do we ask that on a weekly basis?  A monthly?  Time goes by so quickly, and it’s so easy for the year to come to a close before we assess what we’ve been doing for those past 12 months.  And frankly, I can understand why we don’t ask that question more often.  It’s not an easy question to answer.  Not easy because it’s so hard to find the basis of the answer.  Do you base your answer on your actions?  Or do you base it on your words?  How about your motives?  Quite often we intend to act on something, but for whatever reason fail to do so, but we sincerely meant to follow through. 

I guess when it all comes down to it, do your actions match the words you say you are?  When someone else asks who we may be, we may very well be quick to give a general positive overview on the person we are, but we can be very honest and say that we’re not totally honest in our response to that individual.  Which is not altogether bad, because who wants to hear the whole dirty laundry list of someone we just met?  But really, do our actions match our words?  And sure, we’re not always going to follow through on what we say we’re going to do, but as a rule, can it be said that the way you describe yourself would be recognizable to those around you who see how you act? 

It’s an age old question.  In the Bible, Paul would lament over the fact that he didn’t do the things he knew he should do, and the things he shouldn’t do, he found himself doing.  Of course, that’s a little different, because that was a man that was trying to live up to a standard, God’s standard, and found himself failing.  Which, when you think about it, was a pretty good answer to our question.  He would look at the reflective surface, and honestly admit that he wasn’t the man he should be. 

This question has been going through my mind a lot lately, and I figure it comes down to two reasons.  The first is that I live in a town and, to various degrees of success, work in an industry where there is a lot of talk.  I have, over the last 5 years, met so many people who have talked of who they know, what they’ve done, what they can do, and at the end of the day, is all hot air.  Their actions were, in some cases, almost the opposite of what they said they stood for and do.  One of the comments I would get a lot from my colleagues was they appreciated the fact that I would give them the straight skinny.  Whether it was good new or bad news, an encouragement or a harsh critique, they respected me for giving it to them between the eyes.  They may not have always liked what I said, but I was just being upfront with them, and they dug that.  As I said before, “honesty:  we may not always see eye to eye, but you’ll always know where I stand.”  So with all the talk that I’ve heard, I wonder how often, if at all, do others look in the mirror and ask themselves this question.

The second reason is to present a challenge; to myself definitely, but also to you, if you’re so inclined as to accept challenges from people whom you barely know.  It hit me pretty hard last night as the temperature dropped pretty low for SoCal.  I hate the cold, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I get cold easily.  Born and raised in SoCal, 65, for me, is on the chilly side.  I was thinking about all the people on the street having to deal with the bitter cold on top of being hungry, and I wondered if I’m doing enough to help them.  Enough, there’s a loaded term.  You ask the rich, greedy man how much is enough, and he’ll answer “more.”  But you know what I mean.  I can say that I care for the homeless, but if I’m not doing much to help them, does it really mean I care for them?  Before you answer what seems to be a simple question, think of this simple analogy.  I care about the Dodgers.  Root for them, excited when they win, bummed when they lose, but I haven’t done one thing in the past, at least, 7 years to help them.  Haven’t attended a game, bought any merchandise, not one dollar to support the team.  Does it mean I don’t care about them?  That’s different, you say, you don’t personally know the Dodgers.  True, but you can also say that about the homeless.  Let’s take a different approach.  How many of us have old friends that we care about deeply, but seldom have contact.  Life is busy, you work, they work, you have family, they have family, and weeks and months go by without a word.  You haven’t done anything at all for them for months, but you still care very much for them.

The challenge is to look at the reflection and ask that simple question, and other questions will flow.  Do your actions support who you say you are?  If not, why?  What are your motives behind your actions, and what are some excuses we make to explain our lack of action.  C.S Lewis had a great quote in “The ScrewTape Letters” (great book, by the way):  “The more often you feel without acting, the harder it will be to act the next time, and in the long run, the harder it will be to feel.”  I think about that when I pass by those holding signs and asking for a bit of help.  The more often I pass them without doing anything, the easier it becomes to act the same the next time.  It’s at those times when I need to hold up that mirror.

What does God want?

Is this the right question to ask at the end of the year, or would it be better for the beginning of a new year?  At first glance, one would think that the question is best posed at the beginning of a new year, but it’s possible that the year that has passed may be more clearly seen with this question in mind.  I guess the timing isn’t as important as the answer itself.  But therein lay the dilemma, because try as we might, we’re not going to get a firm answer to this question.

One can state that what God wants is for us to do His will, and that would be a good answer.  However, that begs another question:  What is His will?  Now we can look at the Bible and get a pretty clear overview on what He wants, but when it’s all said and done, what does He want in regards to me?  Does he want me to be happy?  Oh boy, going down a very interesting path right now.  The Bible says He came to give life and more abundantly.  While life and certainly abundance is nice, does it necessarily equate to happiness?  All we need to do is look at some of the men of the Bible for an idea of what the answer may be.  Let’s look at Hosea, he was ordered to marry a prostitute so that he would know what God feels like.  How about Jonah?  Gets stuck in a storm, swallowed by a fish, and then has to watch his mortal enemies celebrate.  Paul?  Shipwrecked, stoned, beaten, whipped, among other things.  Can we honestly believe these men were happy?  They may have been at peace, they may have seen the big picture and realize that all that matters is what happens in eternity, and that would give a sense of comfort.  While being uncomfortable can cause one to be unhappy, the opposite is not necessarily true.  Just because someone is comfortable doesn’t mean they are happy. 

Is it safe to say that God is not overly concerned with our happiness?  Is it safe to say that He sees that all that matters is how happy we are in eternity?  That would be a tough statement to make because the question that leaps out would be to ask if that is true love.  The Bible talks about His unconditional love and how a fathers’ love for his child is nothing compared to His love for us.  I was recently asked what I did with the verses that talk about asking and receiving, and how He wouldn’t give us a stone when we asked for bread.  My reply was that I did ask, and did not receive.  My explanation went something like this:

There have been more righteous men, more spiritual men, men with purer motives who have gone through things and asked God to deliver them and were not delivered in the way that they hoped.  So who am I to expect God to come through for me in the way I would like?  As things fell apart all around me, I came to the conclusion that God was not going to come through in the way I expected no matter how much faith I had.  Now you may question my level of faith, but how much more faith do you need to put all your possessions on the line?  I was told that my relief, so to speak, did not come because I was not totally in His will.  This brings up something very disconcerting.  Must I be perfect to ask Him to help me carry out what I think His will is?  Obviously not, because no one is perfect, but how close to it must you be for Him to follow through on expectations He asked you to place on Him? 

You see how dangerous this road can get?  Let’s journey forward to see it get even more so.  We talked a bit of love, and a big question is that if God truly loves us, why would He allow us to suffer?  Now this is a different question than why God didn’t prevent this disaster or tragedy.  Obviously, there is free will, but this question is about someone who is believing God and doing everything he can to do His will, so why wouldn’t He answer?  It would be wrong to say that He enjoys our suffering, but what does one say when you know that God knows what’s going to happen and doesn’t prevent it?  To put it another way, you put everything on the line, your house, your things, your savings, and you say, “God, I’m doing this for you.  You will have to make things happen as I press forward.”  So, what do you do when He doesn’t come through?  Which begs an even bigger question, and this is where danger is at its highest.  If God, who knows everything that is going to happen, would let those who follow Him to suffer, why would He create anyone who He knows will reject Him and end up with eternal suffering? 

Athiests, for centuries, have tried to debunk the Bible, and many who have tried, came away as Christians.  Those who genuinely study it, even to try to find a flaw, come away with no valid argument against it.  One of my pastors likes to state that if you want to become very rich, find a flaw in the Bible, because nobody has been able to do so yet.  But perhaps it’s much simpler than that.  The last question posed in the previous paragraph focuses on His love.  The Bible says that He is love, but why would He create anyone that He knows will ultimately suffer for eternity?  How is that love?  Therein, if anything, lay the flaw.  How can that be answered?  Will this be one of those questions that the response is that it’s beyond our comprehension and that we will never understand here on earth, so just have faith and press on?  There seem to be to many of those, and yet, all we need to do is look around and notice the unending creativity the Creator has to understand how limited our thought capabilities are. 

Do you see how dangerous the road got?  We started with the question as to what God wants and we ended with exposing a possible flaw and debunking Christianity.  The fact of the matter is that I can’t answer any of those questions.  My closest guess to the last question is that those who will eternally suffer are those who ultimately don’t want to be with God.  Like the saying I heard from many friends when I was growing up:  Heaven sounds boring, I’d rather be in Hell where all the fun is.  Of course they are sorely mistaken, but if that is their choice, then they chose poorly.  I don’t know what God wants.  For me?  I don’t.  I thought I did, and perhaps the journey I’ve experienced is all in accordance with what He wants.  I’ve experienced loss, but really, who hasn’t?  And to be perfectly honest, with what I’ve gone through is nothing compared to millions and billions who are now suffering or have suffered in the past.  I guess when it all comes down to it, the closer you get to someone, the more you know their desires, their needs and their wants.  What does God want?  If I can’t answer that, then it’s highly probable that I need to get closer to Him to know that answer.

THE worst book I've ever read.

I just finished reading THE worst book I have ever read in my life.  Before I give the gory details of this travesty that somehow has been termed a story, I must give you a little background on me so you may properly gauge my point of view.  Once you get this info, you can judge for yourself on whether or not you agree with my assessment on what I believe is absolute trash and how I am absolutely perplexed on how this thing is considered a classic. 

I like to read.  I don’t read as much as I’d like to now, with life being so busy and so much on my plate, but I read quite a bit when I was younger.  Now before you get the impression that I’m a reading snob, one of those elitist who looks down on anything that is printed for the masses, let me assure you, I am not.  My tastes are pretty much middle of the road.  I have not read Tolstoy, and I have not read Nieztsche.  Some of the classics I have enjoyed are Tom Sawyer, The Count of Monte Cristo, Gone with the Wind, and A Tale of Two Cities.  Some of the modern authors I have enjoyed reading are David Baldacci, John Grisham, Michael Crichton, Larry McMurtry, Tom Clancy and Alistair Maclean.  I’ve read a few biographies, and a few historical accounts.  It’s a brief background, and you might get the impression that perhaps this novel I will describe may be too deep for me as I’ve listed a number of authors of what is sometimes called “throw-away” novels as ones I enjoy reading.  That might be the case, but I highly doubt it.  Now, on to this drivel.

I will first say that there has been only one book I started reading that I didn’t finish.  It was a book that my boss at the time had given to me.  He enjoyed reading, and noticing I read all the time at my lunch, he would often give me paperbacks to read.  In fact, he was the one who first got me into McMurtry.  I was never interested in reading a Western, but he said I might like it, and sure enough, it was an impressive story.  But he did give me one that was excessively boring, and I got about halfway through before putting it down. 

This one, this “classic,” and I use those quotation marks in the most sarcastic air quotes I can muster, is one that I felt like putting down after getting through a quarter of it.  The only reason why I finished it is because it’s considered a classic and I sincerely thought it would get better.  It did not, and the more I read, the angrier I got.

It starts off decently enough.  It’s written in the first person, which I thoroughly enjoy.  By consistently reading “I did,” “I thought,” “I saw,” it puts me right in the narrator’s shoes and into their mindset.  Books written in the first person are generally my favorite, so we were off to a good start.  It went downhill very quickly.

The main character of this thing is the least likable character I have ever read or seen portrayed in film or TV.  This character has no redeeming qualities whatsoever.  He has no vision, no direction, no purpose and no relationships.  This annoying character has problems with everyone he comes into contact with.  “This person does this too often, therefore he’s prideful,” “this person has this kind of luggage, therefore he’s stupid,” “this girl says this word too much, therefore she’s phony.”  Everyone he talks to, everyone he sees is phony, annoying and stupid, according to him.

This character has a few minor quirks that are neither here or there.  Some little things that he does that are a bit humorous, but quickly loses its humor when he describes himself as a madman every time he does it.  “I did this.  I’m a madman.”  You add that to his constant use of the phrase, “if you want to know the truth,” and he uses it for the most inane things.  “I had a choice between red and blue, and I chose blue, if you want to know the truth.”  That’s just an example but it’s an overused phrase for something that’s really not that important.

 

This character goes through the entire book overusing these phrases and loathing every person around him that it gives a sickening feeling reading it.  At one point, he makes mention of the war, the second world war, and how he was thankful for the bomb so that he didn’t have to fight.  And so fearful of having to fight, he vowed that if another war broke out, he would find the first bomb and sit on it.  Now I can understand that fear, some men are not born to fight, but I found myself wishing that as the author wrote this book, another war did break out, so that he would nuke himself and save me from reading this garbage. 

A little side note.  It’s not major, but as I trudged through the mire, it helped increase my displeasure with the whole experience, and that was the cussing.  I’m no prude, I’m not the type that gets offended when I hear cussing.  In fact, one of my favorite movies is Goodfellas, and there’s language flowing through the whole movie.  That’s the culture and I understand it.  But in this book, curse words are thrown all over the place, and there really isn’t a reason.  It just reeked of a lack of vocabulary.  And I know it was written from the point of view of a teenager, but it just seemed very stupid. 

I’m wrapping this up, because it’s getting long, but I’ll end with this.  Throughout this whole book, NOTHING happens.  This whole story is about a teenager getting fed up with his prep school and leaving.  The next few days he muddles through doing little of anything.  The most exciting thing he does, which he describes as the biggest problem he’s ever dealt with, is a hooker and her pimp push him around a little bit because he needed to pay them an extra five dollars.  Other than that, it was a complete bore.

What is this waste?  What is this monstrosity that absolutely astounds me that it’s considered a classic?  The answer

The Catcher in the Rye

The title itself is taken from a career he tells his younger sister that he wants.  For him, what he wants to do in life is that when children are playing ball in the rye field, and when they chase the ball out of it, to prevent them from falling off a cliff, he wants to catch them.  Was there an epidemic of children running out of rye fields off cliffs?  Was that a huge problem? 

Do yourself a favor.  Don’t EVER read this book.  It is a complete waste of time.  I only finished it because I thought there was going to be some great point at the end that made it all worth it.  There isn’t.  There’s no point.  It ends with nothing being accomplished and with no indication of how those few days affected his life.   The fact of the matter is that what you did in the last week amounts to a heck of a lot more than the experience the author describes in this book.  I’d venture to say that even some coma patients accomplished more this past week.   

Entitlement

When did we become a bunch of whiners?  I mean, really, when did this happen?  I can't remember a time in my life where I've heard so much "I deserve this," "I want that," or "it's not right that I don't have this."  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for your esteem driving your sense of deservedness or wants, but where I'm getting lost is the statement made after these sentences.  "I deserve this, AND YOU SHOULD PAY FOR THIS." 

Is this the most ridiculous thing around right now?  There is a feeling that has infested our culture with the belief that not only should we get what we want or feel that we deserve, but that the price of it should be passed on to someone else.  "They're better off, they should pay for it."  That is the new philosophy.  That is the putrid attitude that is driving this mentality.  Now obviously I'm speaking in generalities, because there are a great number of people in our great land who work hard, use their ingenuity and creativity and educate themselves to get what they want, need or deserve.

"IT'S NOT FAIR."  I've heard this statement waaaaaaay too often lately.  Grow up!  We heard it many times when we were kids, "Life is not fair."  You're not overly happy about it, but you learn to deal with it.  "That's the way the ball bounces," "That's the way the cookie crumbles."  These are statements we heard when we were growing up, and sometimes the ball bounced our way and sometimes it didn't, and no matter what anybody says to you, "LIFE IS NEVER GOING TO BE FAIR." 

The sad thing is that the same people who cry "unfair," and demand something be done about it are the same people who get offended when you give them advice.  Out of money, there's a janitor job over there.  "HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME BY INSUINATING I SHOULD BELITTLE MYSELF IN TAKING SUCH A MENIAL JOB!"  Stop sleeping around and making babies all over the place.  "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"  It's absolutely absurd that so many can get offended when they're told what they can do to get themselves back on their feet, but then turn around and demand others to give them something.  It all comes down to this.

When you tell me you're part of the 99%, you're telling me that YOU ARE THE BIGGEST WHINER ON THE FACE OF THIS PLANET IN ITS WHOLE HISTORY!  What you are in your poverty makes you part of the upper middle class in Europe.  We won't even go into Africa because the disparity between what you don't have and what they don't have is so indescribably huge that to try to put it into words would not even come close to doing it justice.  All of us in this country are part of the 1%, and if you're truly concerned about what's fair, then you should be doing everything you can to make sure a child in Africa gets a meal today just so that he/she can see another morning. 

Our constitution gives us the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  You're alive, you're free, and you can pursue as much happiness as you what.  Stop whining.  Go make something of yourself.  Sometimes the cookie will crumble on your table, sometimes on another table.  Embrace the advantageous bounces of the ball, and deal with the disadvantageous bounces.  We are all blessed in this great land of opportunity.  Yes, some more than others, but stop crying and make things happen.