The other day, I was complaining to Ironhuff about the behavior of a friend. He said the best thing I’ve heard in a while. “It’s like Charlie Brown. He thinks that this time Lucy won’t pull the ball away and will let him kick, but she never does. Lucy always pulls the ball away.” I know too many people like that. On the political level, you could say the American public is Lucy. In the 2004 election, they pulled the ball away.
Take a certain pop star who has undergone massive plastic surgery. Put a five-year old in his sprawling mansion and next thing you know, that five-year old is sitting on the witness stand and CSPAN is having a circus. Or Senate majority leaders, especially Republican ones. They always end up resigning over some jackass thing they did (give the current one time).
The media is one big Lucy. They are still talking about the Pope. And they’ll be talking about him next week. They overdo everything: it’s their signature pulling that ball away.
When people are predictable, it’s usually for the worse. Everyone knows the stereotypes. Like the friend who is always getting fired. They’ll tell you it’s never their fault, but how can every company that person has worked for been wrong? Or the pal who is always needing money – and he is well into adulthood? He’ll tell you it is never his fault, that life happens and he is always in debt and the light bill is always two seconds away from being turned off. Meanwhile, said friend is driving a nice car, wearing nice clothes and going out every night. Then there’s always the person who can’t find love, because even though she isn’t much more attractive than a boiled chickpea, she has to haves someone with the looks of George Clooney, except George Clooney is too old looking for her.
I’m struck lately by the number of people I encounter on a daily basis who have something in their lives chronically messed up: finances, career, love, health, or all four and more. Bad junk happens to good people. Those aren’t the folks I’m talking about. We’re talking the repeat offenders. The ones that crap happens to all the damn time – the same ones who will tell you it is never their fault.
You know a few of these folks, admit it. Vegas if full of them. San Francisco, my home before Vegas, is not so polluted with this particular ilk (though for some reason, they have a large number of child molesters, so go figure). People I know in SF have careers, work on their health, try to improve themselves. In Vegas, I’m met more good folks than bad, but good God, have I met some losers in this town. And the one thing that strikes me about them is that not a single one of them is ever willing to say, “you know what? My life is screwed up and it’s my own damn fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have had a kid at 18 and married that two-timing mobster only to be divorced at 19 and penniless with a screaming child attached to my hip.” Or, “Maybe I shouldn’t have called my boss a dyke. That might be why I got fired.” Or, “I shouldn’t have taken out a loan on my house and gambled it all away at the Stardust.” How about, “If I hadn’t smoked for twenty years, perhaps I would not have lung cancer.” And finally, “I bet if I stopped eating fast food daily, I might lose some weight.”
What’s my point? I dunno, I’m a repeat offender at rambling. That’s my version of Lucy pulling that ball away. All I know is that the older I get, the more I encounter people behaving badly as a matter of habit. You want to give them a second chance. You want to believe that they will take responsibility for their bad behavior – this time. But no. They pull that damn ball away.
So if you are thinking of doing a favor for one of these people, take if from Charlie Brown. You are gonna end up on your ass, muttering “good grief.”
