First World Problems in Third World USA

Complaining in the world's wealthiest Banana Republic

This is another in a continuing series of previously published articles. It seems appropriate on this Independence Day, when none of our horrific leaders believe in independence. To read my new posts, please subscribe at my primary Substack, “I Protest,” here: https://donaldjeffries.substack.com/

I can remember when there weren’t so many complainers in America. I used to stand out, what with my constant bitching and critical barbs. My old Korean co-worker Mr. Kim used to lovingly call me “Mr. Compainer.” Mr. Kim was still playing soccer regularly in his seventies. Pretty obvious he wasn’t born in this country.

As a young radical, my ire was directed everywhere. I despised the cops, and tried everything I could to avoid interaction with them. And they still harassed me on occasion. There was my pathfinding drunk driving arrest in 1979, when the kind officer pulled me over as I about to turn into my apartment parking lot. I tried to point to my building, and say “I live right there,” but he had the cuffs on me before I could finish the sentence. And never read me my rights. I guess that’s just a television thing. I couldn’t afford auto insurance for two years because of that.

So I really, really hated Mothers Against Drunk Driving. MADD used to sit outside courtrooms, to intimidate judges into throwing the book at hapless young partiers like me. But they were never to be found when NFL stars logged multiple DWIs, some accompanied by dangerous high-speed chases. And in more recent years, they don’t seem MADD at all the chronic illegal alien drunk drivers. Remember, Barack Obama decreed that illegals were not to prosecuted for drunk driving, even when they killed someone. Both illegal immigrants and entitled athletes are our friends.

It was really unpopular to rant against MADD in the days of America 1.0. I tried to point out that “alcohol related” crashes include incidents where any passenger had been drinking. That hardly seems like an honest statistic. Wouldn’t that include any accident involving those upstanding designated drivers? Wasn’t that the kind of responsible action society wanted? Distracted drivers, and simply incompetent drivers, have always been more of a hazard on the road than drunk drivers. MADD’s pressuring officials to lower the legal blood alcohol limit only ensured that police would be arresting more of the least drunk drivers on the road. But that’s the essence of policing for profit.

I was never a troublemaker. I just liked to have fun. But my rare interactions with police were always negative. Sometime in the 1990s, I was outside in front of my townhouse, putting a bag of trash on the top of my car. All the residents did that, because the trash drop off was a few hundred years away, and it was just easier to drive and throw it off of your hood on your way out. A friendly officer happened upon the scene, and blocked my way. He jumped out of his squad car aggressively, and demanded that I remove the trash bag, then lectured me on how dangerous that was. I thought he was going to pull a gun on me. In today’s mad, mad, mad, mad world, I would have been tasered, if not shot.

Around the same time, I went to court to support my brother, who had to put out a restraining order on his demented roommate, who assaulted and tried to rape him. Naturally, the housing program he was in forced him to move, and not his attacker. At any rate, not accustomed to being in one of these dens of injustice, I watched the lordly judge leave the bench after only twenty minutes or so. This was after he’d reported for “work” about a half hour late. So, being the kind of guy I am, I approached the armed officer in the courtroom and asked him where the judge went. He snarled, “He’s on break.” When I scoffed and said, “he just got here!” the cop tapped his gun menacingly and ordered me to “sit down.” They just ought to put a sign up in every busy public place that proclaims, “Absolutely NO Questions.”

On the job, I complained incessantly. Mostly about management, of course. I resisted their rules at every turn. Refused to tuck my shirt in. Now, of course, pretty much everyone wears their shirt out. Looking back, it’s pretty clear why I was never promoted. I called them out on their inconsistencies, unfairness, and pointless rules pretty much continuously. My fellow blue collar workers mostly loved my ranting, but it wasn’t appreciated by anyone who had a high-paying position. Later, when I moved to a better job in IT, my complaining went with me. It’s just that there was always something to complain about, even in the comparatively golden days of America 1.0.

When my kids were young, and I took them to the doctors I avoided like the plague, I ran into more trouble with my complaints. I remember one time, after waiting for a couple of hours with kids coughing all around us, I had the audacity to ask the receptionist how much longer it would be before my child was seen. They really don’t like this sort of thing. Any signs of impatience among the herd. And making things worse, I pointed out how many people had come in after us, and yet been taken before us. That is the kind of observation that makes you unpopular at doctor’s offices, government agencies, and restaurants. At any rate, when I got home, the doctor herself called and lectured me, threatening to “fire” my children as patients. As I said, they really hate people questioning them at all. I was born a questioner.

Now, in the frightening year of 2022, my past complaints seem laughable. Tucked in shirts? And, of course, millions of Americans have been driven into the complaint corner by two years of unlawful “mandates,” unconstitutional lockdowns, and increased family dysfunction. They’re mad as hell and they’re not going to….well, like me, they’re going to complain even more. What else can we do? Everyone in a position of any power at all is opposed to our complaints. They don’t think we have complaints. And we’re mostly complaining about them, or something they have control over. We’re long overdue for what the Founders called a regress of grievances. But there is no mechanism to express those grievances. Look at what happened to the J6 protesters. No one wants to join them as political prisoners.

I still complain about lots of little things as well, that may not be significant in the overall picture, but are like irritating canker sores that keep coming back. I have a hard time watching any relatively modern movie or television show. Even without the heavy handed propaganda, I can’t stand the tropes. The emphasis on male, and not female nudity. Characters vomiting all the time. Females punching and overpowering larger, often fully armed, males. Dumb and soft White guys everywhere. Even inexplicable stuff, like not closing car doors when characters get out of them. Or blood trickling from the nose as the indicator of any serious disease or any supernatural goings on. The dodging bullets prowess of every action hero. And, of course, the whispering dialogue. The filmmakers want the audience to strain to hear crucial conversations. And the excessively dark lighting. User unfriendly productions.

On a personal level, I very seldom enjoy a tranquil commute on our crumbling, Third World roads. People suddenly darting out aimlessly in front of you, and then driving incredibly slow. In a hurry to slow you down. Motorists camping out in the left lane, and going much slower than the flow of traffic. Texters and immigrants who couldn’t have passed any legitimate driving test everywhere, causing accidents and dodging the long arm of the law, whose officers will be there to nab someone who’s making an “illegal” U-turn. Why is there such a thing as an “illegal” U-turn? People, mostly texters, failing to respond to green lights, holding up traffic even further.

The other day, one of my grade B celebrity friends on Facebook, whom I won’t name, shared a rant about people in parking lots who delay in backing out, while someone is visibly waiting for the spot. Now, the rant wasn’t at these selfish and inconsiderate people, it was directed at those who dare to complain about them. A few of the comments indicated that others enjoy doing this, and take even longer if they see the person waiting for the space is frustrated. I’ve also read comments on forums where control freak slow drivers admit loving the looks of anger on the faces of those behind them, as they purposefully drive slower than necessary.

I visit the local post office more than I like. It’s always an excruciating experience, much like visiting the DMV is. My anger is triggered the moment I see the sign out front ludicrously referring to post office workers as “heroes.” Then I go inside, and watch the heroic government employees doing their thing. Dragging their feet. Serving you as slow as humanly possible. During the Christmas season, when they had only two of the five windows open, I loudly questioned why they didn’t have more cashiers. Both the diverse workforce and the masked sheeple in line gave me blank looks. Well, it was kind of hard to tell with the masks, but I think they were blank.

I’m not part of the grammar police, but people writing “of” instead of “have” online has exploded. For example, “I should of done this.” Like Ambrose Bierce, I shake my head when people parrot the ridiculous line, “the exception proves the rule.” As Bierce pointed out, exceptions test or disprove the rule, they certainly don’t prove it. People yawning without covering their mouths. People openly defending not washing their hands after using the bathroom. And thanking anyone for their “service,” when these same people don’t say “thank you” when it’s appropriate. It’s hard being a populist.

I really hate hypocrisy. Having been a teenager and young adult when drugs and illicit sex were everywhere, I cringe at some of my self-righteous fellow Boomers. They seem to have forgotten the abortions, and heavy drug usage. Or having sex in closets at parties. Many have gravitated to born-again style Christianity, often the “prosperity gospel” kind. I know too many who lead a decidedly non-Christian lifestyle. Two born-again families I know well have abandoned their own child. Literally haven’t talked to them in years, despite homelessness, suicide attempts, and an obvious need for their love. Parents refusing to help their own children. Praise the Lord and pass the plate.

I even criticize most of the criticism. Why isn’t the focus on COVID-19 being a charade from the beginning? What happened to COVID-20 and COVID-21? No yearly strain of virus has ever lasted for more than two years, without burning out in the heat. “Science,” they used to call it. Don’t all those misrepresented and fake numbers, which the CDC instructed hospitals about back in April 2020, including “presumed” cases, and the PCR tests with 90% false positive results, which Kary Mullis, who invented that test, blasted as being worthless, make the entire narrative a joke? Vaccines that have to be taken repeatedly, and still don’t protect you from the disease? A record-setting increase in deaths? Sudden Adult Death Syndrome? How obvious does this have to be? Why are we giving “COVID” any respect at all?

But still, even “awake” people will say, “I’m not anti-vaccine.” Read my book Crimes and Cover-Ups in American Politics: 1776-1963, where I detail some of the history of vaccines. Many doctors were alarmed at the introduction of these vaccines, and rightly noticed that cancer suddenly burst upon the scene at the exact same time. Just another coincidence. Why do any “awake” people still trust any aspect of this odious Medical Industrial Complex? They’ve been caught in one of the Biggest of all their Big Lies. To believe any of it, one has to abandon all reason. The entire COVID narrative is a fraud, and those peddling it are frauds.

As most of you know, I lost my brother earlier this year to “COVID.” Well, actually to the COVID protocol, which took a completely healthy man with no symptoms and killed him in two weeks. And yet I was so emotionally devastated, I really didn’t complain much at the hospital, which killed him. I’ve come to realize it’s a satanic system, mostly not identifiable individuals, who were responsible for his needless and inexcusable death, as they have been responsible for untold numbers of others. It’s harder to complain in America 2.0, because no one takes responsibility for the mess. Ambrose Bierce defined a corporation as an ingenious invention whereby individual profit is achieved, without individual responsibility. That neatly describes every one of the cartoonish villains who run America 2.0.

I’ll keep complaining. When things go much more smoothly than expected, I often am at a loss for words. It’s that rare of an occurrence. And I am never at a loss for words. If more lawyers were like the fictional Perry Mason, we’d have a different legal system, and a better country. Even most defense attorneys don’t question things effectively. The sheeple who remain asleep to the corruption and tyranny, not only refuse to question, they shame and ostracize those who do. Question in this regard is a synonym for complain. There is a lot to question, and we need to question everything.