The Winter of Our Discontent
1 December 2022
Good morrow, gentle reader! The annual American feast of gluttony and football is over and done with thankfully, and now retailers bombard us endlessly with adverts for buying things we don't need for those in our circle of family and friends who probably don't need those things either. Perhaps it's the dreary, grey, wet & chilly days that turn me even grumpier than I already am. Certainly the additional work and stresses that come from my bishop's pet project which is supposed to "grow disciples", (I honestly had no idea that one could legally plant and harvest human beings), adds to my increasing frustration and general curmudgeonly nature. Thus, I have found in the past few weeks myself becoming increasingly agitated and short-tempered. I will share with you, gentle reader, some of my least favourite things.
Moronic drivers: those folks who have no idea in how to employ turn signals; those folks who insist on driving well under the posted speed limit in good weather; those folks who tailgate, being drawn to the imaginary gigantic electro-magnet hidden in my rear bumper; those who text whilst driving; those who have no concept that exhaust mufflers exist; and most certainly cops who think that speed limits and the rules of the road don't apply to them when their vehicles are not in emergency mode with flashing lights and sirens. Add to the list the fools who cannot properly park their vehicle within the lines for parking. How I wish I owned a tow-truck!
Meetings: just about every scheduled meeting of committees, commissions, discussion groups, and the like could easily be simple emails. I have found that most meetings exist simply to assuage the feelings of those who want to talk and have the need to impose their passionate blather on innocent and unsuspecting ears. Meetings, whether via "zoom" or in-person, are for me, a general waste of my time and attention. Put it in writing, and send it to me. I shall read it through, consider the ideas, and respond in writing with my reactions and thoughts. Thank. You. Very. Much!
Mindless Optimism: Ye gods! Where to begin with this pet peeve. I am not, nor have I ever been much of an optimist. I'm far too realistic to be optimistic, and being an historian only adds to my pessimistic views of the human race. It's a bloody wonder that we're still in existence! Now, please understand gentle reader, I am not criticising joy or cheerfulness. Those are good and virtuous. What I am criticising is the trait that some display in the face of absolute and unmitigated evil and suffering. One can be joyful in the midst of suffering. One can be cheerful in suffering. Remember St. Laurence joking as he was roasted alive on the gridiron? One can accept the reality of human suffering, and still joyfully hope in God's promises, so stop with the blather about "cheer up, things will get better". They might, but they may also worsen. As I would remind my students back in my teaching days, "I am your daily dose of bitter reality.".
"Respectability": What I prefer to term "middle class morality". It has little to do with morals or ethics. It is that cloyingly irritating insistence of some on being "acceptable" and "respectable". Pish tosh! It's basically a herd mentality of fitting in, not making waves, being "nice" (Gads! How I loathe that term!), being polite. It's more about manners than morals. It seems to be found mostly in the middle classes, and rarely in the lower or upper classes. The lower classes don't fit in already because of their lack of the world's goods, and through their lack of etiquette, and seem to be content on not "fitting in". The upper classes (I do not mean the monied. Such characters as Musk, Zuckerberg, the Kardashians, and the like are most definitely NOT upper class simply because they are filthy rich.) The real upper classes - the gentry, the aristocracy, and sometimes the royalty - though they tend to imitate the middle classes in acceptability and respectability for their own survival - couldn't care less about being accepted in the minds of the middle classes, and are quite happy with their eccentricities. Rich or poor, those classes of people might well be good Christians, but care little for being accepted by others. The wretched "middle class morality" with its insistence on things like "cleanliness is next to godliness", "swear" or "curse" words are bad, and home owner associations are caught up in the maze of convention. Humbug! A pox on them all. Feign all you want, but I do not shrink from being considered infamous, disgraceful, disreputable, or shameful. I do, however, attempt at times to be discreet. After all, discretion is the better part of valour.
"MY truth": Balderdash! There is no such thing as "your" truth or "my" truth; there is simply THE truth. There can be such a thing as "your experience" and "my experience", but the test is whether or not they correspond to the objective truth. I suppose such rubbish comes from the realms of relativity in morals, or more likely from the twisted flights of fancy in the minds of the addle-pated. Take for example the interview that Mrs. Mountbatten-Windsor gave to Oprah Winfrey, in which Me-again, the cable TV actress accused the British royal family of racism. Both of the women in that interview used the term "my truth" and "your truth". Oprah was definitely not being a serious journalist in that media spectacle, and Me-again was simply beginning her war of revenge on the royals for not getting what she wanted, and spouted a fair number of false claims which have all been debunked, yet, it was her "truth". Poppycock! Call it for what it is - lies. Or one could be more charitable, as our late Majesty was, and say as she did, "Recollections may vary.".
My dear and gentle reader, I make no excuses for myself. I am what I am, and that's all that I am, to paraphrase Popeye the Sailor, who in turn paraphrased St. Paul. Yes, I am a curmudgeon. Yes, I am an unabashed royalist, and even an elitist at times. Yes, I have my gentlemanly prejudices (as all people do, it's just that most won't admit it). Yes, I can curse like a longshoreman, making even a hardened sailor blush - doing my best to avoid the abuse of the Holy Name. Yes, I do not suffer fools gladly. Yes, I am a gadfly, and often pay the price for it. No, I will not go along simply to get along. Neither should you, dear reader. Embrace the inner curmudgeon. Throw off the shackles of convention. Proclaim the objectivity of truth. If you do, you will experience a freedom that many shun. You may not be well liked, but you will be memorable, and perhaps even feared. And if your family and friends have any sense they will love you for it, and despite it.
As ever, dear and gentle reader, God's blessings upon you, as we await with joyful hope the glorious coming of the Lord!
Fr. P
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