I, Judgmental

A couple of years back I was a Social Worker for the County of Riverside, California.

I was not very good at my job.

One of the reasons I was not very good was because I do not have the capacity to sit in judgement of peoples' lives. My primary job duty was to take away elderly folks' access to medication if they did not follow proper protocol.

I know for a fact that 2 clients have passed after my actions.

It took a long time for me to stop blaming myself. But for I time I had some deep soul searching to be able to face myself in the mirror.

The stress of that job damn near killed me. Thankfully I got fired.

I floated on unemployment for a long time. My wife opened up a Payless Shoe Store in my ass for as much as she was kicking it. I needed to get a job. Three days before unemployment ran out I got a job for a major juvenile product manufacturer as a customer service rep.

I moved up the company ladder and am now working in sales and I run the marketing department.

I don't have any experience in those fields but I make due.

This is all preface to the following:

Accidentally I found myself arguing against my company donating to the Octomom, Nadia Suleman.

And the main thrust of my argument was in very political terms was: She is a scumbag and not only worthy of our product but her status may taint our name.

Who the fuck do I think I am?

In my personal life, I'm not a fan of this lady. I don't, however, believe that she is a monster. She's a victim. Not of any socioeconomic maladies, although she fits the criteria, rather she is a carry of something most of us have in this country: Americanitis.

Americanitis is this chronic belief that we are all snowflakes. A compulsion of individuality that permeates our every waking thought.

Some suffer more than others. And it is only getting worse.

With the rise of Paris Hilton and her ilk, Americanitis has mutated into an ideal that you can be a celebrity without having any discernible talent.

You now can be famous for being pathetic.

I suffer from this condition. I wake up every morning cursing the world for making me have a job when obviously I'm so gifted that people should pay me for my thoughts and/or stories.

American is founded on Hubris.

My company ignored my pleas and could not resist the free publicity of mailing car seats to the Octomom. None of our competiors did. That should tell you something right there.

Oprah denied her.

So here I sit on my golden throne and in my ivory tower, judging this poor woman and everything she does.

I should be ashamed of myself.