YOU’RE MENTALLY ILL!
Thank you for your professional opinion… I mean diagnosis. Now I can start fires, say anything I want, run over baby ducks at the park, run naked through the YMCA, and engage in any kind of abhorrent antisocial behavior. And now that I’m “mentally ill” I can expect all of the protection and empathy that society offers the infirm. (Because I’m craaaaaaaazzzy. Wink wink.)
My reality has become product safety; specifically food safety. The concept is an industry-driven effort at controlling the quality and safety of the nation’s food supply. And it’s a great idea. After all, how many times have you been at restaurant and seen some poorly trained slob pull an uncomfortable wedgie from his nether regions while making your burrito. Or my recent personal favorite, a worker at a fast food place that licked her finger before pulling each coffee cup from the holder. You know, to get a little extra “tack.”
I am privileged. That is to say, “white privileged,” as defined by the left and the social movements of the day. I grew up in a small Wisconsin city (call it “Mayberry”), went to public school, received a good education at a state university, became an employed taxpayer and ultimately a business owner. I have a family, home, dog and two cats. And to the extent of “privilege,” I own guns, fly airplanes, and support the economy by purchasing things that are not essential.
