Day by Day

Friday, January 30, 2009

People don't know "hard times"

Tam goes on a slight rant here about an article done by CNN.

Donna LeBlanc gave her husband, a former restaurant manager, the stark ultimatum: become a pizza delivery man or their family "wouldn't make it."

The Lafayette, Louisiana, family of six was struggling with $45,000 of mounting medical debt from Donna LeBlanc's unexpected case of pneumonia and tonsillitis a year earlier. The family savings account had dwindled to $100.

(.....)

Rob LeBlanc filed for unemployment compensation immediately after he lost his job. More than 4.6 million Americans were collecting unemployment benefits as of early January, according to the Labor Department.

In Lafayette, a quiet city of about 114,000 tucked away in southern Louisiana, many of the jobs center around servicing the oil and gas industry, but Rob LeBlanc was unwilling to work offshore and away from his family.


I was having a conversation with my NCOIC the other day, and we've both come to the agreement that people in this country are so fucking spoiled that they don't even know what "HARD TIMES" truly are. This guy could have gotten a job, but HE DID NOT WANT TO. And I'm supposed to feel sympathy for him?

Fuck. That. Noise.

After several weeks of searching, he took the only job he could get -- a Domino's pizza delivery man, a job that would cover the family's expenses.

"I had to swallow my pride and take whatever I could get," Rob LeBlanc says. "I kept telling myself one of these days something better will come along."

Hey fuckernuts - why don't you try WORKING while you wait for that perfect, special job to come along? I swear, is this what America has come to? We've gone from a country where people pulled themselves out of poverty by sheer will alone, and now we're nothing but fat, worthless fucking pasty pansy-assed pieces of wimpy worm-riddled shit who whine and cry about how life is just SO FUCKING UNFAIR.

KISS MY ASS! JUST! KISS! MY! ASS!

When I moved up to Seattle after getting out of the Army, I found a job and honestly thought that I would be working there for at least a few years. Less than a year after I started I got laid off. You know what I did? I FOUND ANOTHER JOB! I was unemployed for less than a month, and thanks to the fact that I had some money in my savings account, I didn't touch a drop of unemployment. To this day, I can say that I've never taken unemployment benefits. Was my new job as fantastic and wonderful as the job I got laid off from? Hell no! But it paid the bills, and by the time I re-enlisted in 2004 I had gotten several raises and was making more money than I ever had in my life!

But that's because I wanted to work and support myself. I had enough pride that I wasn't going to sit around bitching and whining like some worthless fucking retard, waiting and hoping for someone else to hand me my dream job.

Go read the rest of the article. This whining maggot has to sell his motorcycle, BOO FREAKING HOO! The kids don't get allowances? BOO FREAKING HOO! They've had to give up cable and eating out! BOO! FUCKING! HOO!

My wife and I almost NEVER went out to eat in the past four years. When I joined the military, our budget got hit with a double whammy - I made about 10k less per year, and she couldn't get a job in Puerto Rico. You want living lean? WE lived lean. But not only did we not complain, we managed to put a decent amount away in our savings before we left.

I stopped getting an allowance when I was about 11 or 12. So what did I do for money? I mowed lawns. I pruned trees. I pulled weeds. I watched animals for people. I bucked bales of hay. You want a shitty job, Mr. I can't handle getting a real job so I'm going to bitch and whine? GO BUCK 110 POUND BALES OF HAY FOR A WEEK! Anyone who read this blog do that for a while? It's summer time, you're lifting and throwing these bales that weigh anywhere from 65 to 125 pounds, and you've got to wear long-sleeved, heavy duty shirts to keep your arms from getting torn to shreds. It sucks, but it pays. And I did get paid to do it. So I guess that when I was in my teens, I had more fucking balls, pride, and integrity than Mr. LeBlanc does.

Gah. You know what? I'm not in the mood for any kind of sob stories. I've been sick of the sob stories. America is full of sob stories, and people who want to be pitied. Fuck that. Just fuck that straight to hell. I'm sick of pathetic pieces of shit who want pity. I want to be around people who have pride in themselves, and rather than asking for pity they'll pull themselves up and proudly say "Dammit, I'm an American!"

Gah. There goes my blood pressure again.......

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