Why Are Leftists Such Pansies?
"Never mind the college snowflakes who can't even hear an idea they disagree with without retreating to a safe space. What about the adults? The New York Times, a former newspaper, now reads like a 12-year-old girls' sleepover after a mouse got in. It's embarrassing. "How to Cope With Trump?" "Trump's Threat to the Constitution?" "Trump's Agents of Idiocracy!" The guy hasn't even done anything yet! In the Washington Post, Stephanie Land writes a piece headlined, "Trump's Election Stole My Desire to Look for a Partner." Once it was clear that Donald Trump would be president instead of Hillary Clinton, I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to gather my children in bed with me and cling to them like we would if thunder and lightning were raging outside, with winds high enough that they power might go out. The world felt that precarious to me. Crikey. What a weakling. What a wimp. Everything Trump does, every move he makes, is greeted with cries of despair or panic. He's supposed to ask China's permission before he takes a call from Taiwan? For crying out loud, have some respect for your country if you can't have some respect for yourself. * * * I have no problem with there being two sides to an argument. I have no problem with the left making its case. But the whining! The weakness! The hysteria! It's like being stuck on an airplane with a crying baby. Grow up. Or at least stick your thumb in your mouth and keep it down. You're making so much noise it's hard for me to enjoy your suffering. Okay, it's not that hard." Klavan, you lost me at crying baby. The baby I understand, and can tune out, but the whinging adult, not so much. I wrote a story about this once: Traveling with children is always a blast "On the flight home from Michigan we ended in a seat next to a middle age "businessman" wearing a suit. Once he spied Maddogsson he began to kvetch, bellyache, and whinge about children, and always sitting next to children on flights, and how if there were not bad luck he would have none at all. About 10 minuets later, we taxied onto the runway, ran the engines up and dropped the brakes, as we roared down the runway, I leaned over, and said to Maddogsson, "Don't you just hate those big babies in suits, every time we fly we get a seat next to one of them, they whinge, cry, wheedle, mope, and bellyache about workers, the people they sit next to, their wives, work, and everything else." Maddogsson just nodded, and continued with his monologue about what every sound meant, "That's the wheels coming up, and locking down, and that's the flaps retracting . . . " Our seat mate was quiet the entire flight, he never spoke another word. After we landed, and as we stood to debark, I tousled our seat mate's hair, and said, "Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Too bad, but I doubt there is any chance we could ever be friends! Worked like a charm." He must have been a progressive pansy, he was in practice, and fine form.
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