Often inspired by scribbled notes in my notebooks, I had started a monstrous article that should inspire the worst of my readers.
I mean well. I want people to laugh and feel inspired themselves to be the best. I want people to have standards that matter and I want them to skewer what should be skewered.
My notes had a sub header that said the following statement:
Learn To Be Comfortable Disappointing People
I was digging through a partially maligned book (Influence by Robert Cialdini) when I was waiting for someone. I was blessed to have a few ideas to scribble down from his research. He had found that humans seem to have certain actions inspired by guilt and other actions spurred on by the need to be charitable.
One of the studies was at an airport, during the pre-9/11/01 era, where Hare Krishnas would bother people in airports to get donations for their cause. Certain things were observed and many people were driven by the same societal pressures, etc.
I stewed over a bunch of these things. I had also been at the mercy of these feelings when accosted by various entities looking for donations. But I stopped and pondered if that I was really doing anything to help. I felt like I wasn’t helping at all.
This course brought me back to commentary that I think certain fraternal organizations and VSOs should die a whimpering death. I think that some people do more harm trying to help people than they would if they would walk away from them.
I went further into Cialdini’s work in that I wanted to stop feeling bad about plenty of things, coughing up money is one of them. I don’t feel obligated to donate money when someone sends me mailing labels. I stopped feeling bad when a girl scout troop gives me doe eyes trying to tug at my heart strings. I have made it clear to other people in my life that I learned to be comfortable disappointing people.
I’ve resisted idiocy from feminists in that I have told them that I believe that you have to be equal to be equal, many women fail at this. I’ve had to tell someone looking for money that I didn’t think that they weren’t worth “helping”. I’ve told family members that I care less than I used to. I’ve also mentioned that I flaunt stupid regulations set up to allay imaginary concerns from mamby-pambies.
I’m not an angel. It was sad when people made me out to be that person. I’ve had to flush a few people in my life. The truth was that I was a “faithful” person, but I had plenty of things that made me a man.
(Notable mentions: I love alcohol. I have loved feminine women. I’ve also enjoyed sex with feminine women).
I wanted to end this mish mash with the idea that a punch would have been a great counter in certain situations. But a great counter proposition to a female Hare Krishna would have been to verbally disregard their work and suggest that you go screw like polar bears instead.
Mogadishu Matt 