Calling You Out


Yeah, you.

I'm talking to you, Mr. Take-your-kids-to-the-movies-but-bring-toys-so-they-can-play-during-the-show-while-you-fall-asleep. That's right. I'm talking to you Ms. Didn't-get-invited-to-a-private-blog-so-clearly-I-should-be-offended. And don't forget you, Dr. My-superiority-complex-is-causing-a-traffic-jam-on-the-information-highway. Clearly, Professor Conservatism-movement-will-save-God's-country-from-everyone-else-that-is-trying-to-disrupt-our-way-of-life-because-there-is-nothing-on-TV, I mean you too.

I'm talking to all of you. Apparently, something got lost when God gave you your logic and intellect. If we can even call it that. More like SINtellect! Your evil is causing this country in all of it's Tea-bagging GLORY be THINE! to falter from the idyllic "We are number ONE!" spot in Forbes' Top Ten Most Powerful Nations With Little Man Syndrome list. Turns out, the little men in China are beating us on that one now.

If only we weren't so Gomorrah'd, we'd still be on top. Can't we all just go back to the glory days when people could have PRIDE in their country without feeling like the rest of the world is judging them?! The blessed land we lived in THRIVED on that pride, riiight??? Doesn't everybody know it's the only way we became the BESTESTIFUL* country in the world!? (Aside from being the only chosen nation, of course.) Nothing wrong with good-ol' fascisti....fasciona....ah, that's it, FASHIONABLE pride, riiight??

Let's face it, you, Mr./Ms./Dr./Prof. are the reason we've got here. If only you could be like...like...like the Glenn Beck's of this world! Like, like the George W's of the world! Like--well....if only you could be more like the ME of this world!! Ugh, my contempt and superiority over you is GROWING!

It's so obvious that that's where you went wrong. Here you were, thinking that you could think for yourself. Thinking that you could create something new, or contribute something valuable to the discussion. But really, let's face it. You don't create, you consume. You don't contribute, you attribute. You don't think. You...well, I'm sure some of you stink, but the rest of you just sit there while someone feeds you whatever information you would like to hear (and if you don't like it, your fearful conscious tells you to change the channel to something you DO like to hear). And so begins the American Dream of sitting too close to the television, rotting your gray matter into poi, and making--miraculously--you believe you are the perfect critic of others.

Ah! The perfect critic! What the interwebs have allowed us to do these days of days! They make everyone believe they ARE the perfect critic. So let me critique you, Mr./Ms./Dr./Prof./Homeless Man! Let me continue to tell you where you're wrong. Your self-confidence wanes because you don't believe what you say you believe. Your self-pity grows because you perceive others as better off than you. Your daddy issues plague you because for the life of you, you can't separate yourself from his regime you grew up with even though deep down inside there is nothing you want more.

You listen to the libelous Foxes out there because they reassure you that you ARE the best and falling from that title means certain death. You reach out to their rhetoric because the MERE thought of number two would make other people judge you, and YOU are the judge, right? Not them!

You don't care for your image because somehow, somebody has convinced you that you can judge character on beauty, and that beauty truly is only on the inside, but you DO care about your image because if you are not the perfect lass/lad others perceive you as, then you have given up number one.

As comfortable as you say you are with yourself, you are ten times more uncomfortable with being alone with your mind for a day. Interaction is your drug because you are hella scared at finding out what you really believe and what you really think, lest what you find be different from years and years of self-deception.

That's you.



  1. Whoa. Glad that's off your chest.

  2. This. Was. Brilliant. And totally understandable as well as relatable. You know I'm very critical of human beings. Its like the great Ice Cube once elaborated, We all need to check ourselves before we wreck ourselves. And also, thank you.

  3. *BESTESTIFUL - n. (best-EST-i-ful) Best. Most best. Beautiful. Most best & beautiful.

  4. By the way...I saw that Brother Beck has written his "first" work of fiction. Nice to see his work is finally labeled as such.