Oh, the things you’ll think…

I’ve held my tongue about this for quite awhile, but I can’t anymore. Hell, I still can’t even bring myself to post something nearly as strongly-worded as I’d like to, but this will do for now.

I had originally disabled comments because if I hear/read anymore bitching and complaining, my head very well may explode. But now I’ve changed my mind. I figure if you want to bitch and complain, go right ahead and prove my point.

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There once was a decent-sized town. Let’s call it “Mini-New Orleans”. MNO was a bustling place with lots of happy (and not a few disgruntled) Eminos who spent their days scurrying from home to home telling their friends of their days, making wild sexual innuendos, having mass orgies, and exchanging gifts.

Then, one day, there was a massive storm and the Mayor evacuated all the Eminos in the middle of the night without explaining why or allowing them to bring any of their belongings. They struggled together in hastily-assembled tents and camps, huddling around rickety tables, making lists of the missing. Ol’ Pop McSweets opened up his family’s RV park and encouraged people to tack their contact information to the bulletin board in the rec room so they could all stay in touch wherever they happened to go. The Eminos who found their way to the RV park rejoiced and thanked Pop McSweets for providing such a great temporary shelter.

After almost two weeks of wandering, the Mayor sent a carrier pigeon to say that a storm had come and waves had crashed over the levees and Mini-New Orleans and all that which it contained. Then, there was a great fire that burned all the rubble to dust. Finally, Godzilla and King Kong put all the dust into little tea bags and had a delightful little tea party with raspberry jam-topped butter cookies and finger sandwiches the size of school buses. The Mayor looked around at the wreckage, thought of the wrath the Eminos would have for his failure to protect their fair city. He threw up his hands and said, “To hell with it! Somebody else deal with this shit. I’m done!”

All the Eminos cried and mourned the loss of their home. Some had grown up in Mini-New Orleans, others had fallen in love there, and still others were merely old pervy codgers who used it as a banter-filled playground for their debauchery-laden games. Some talked of running for Mayor themselves, others talked of settling in other towns, but most waited to see if another Mayor would step up to rebuild MNO.

Eventually a new Mayor floated into town from the exotic land of the Netherlands. While the New Mayor had never visited MNO as it had been before The Devastation, he felt so badly for the homeless Eminos that he wanted to do whatever he could to give their home back to them as soon as possible. So, the New Mayor set up as many FEMA trailers as he could and asked the Eminos who returned to Mini-New Orleans to tell him their favorite parts of the city that they would like rebuilt and how they looked, which is more than the Old Mayor had ever done.

Word spread throughout the scattered Eminos and many of them migrated home. As they shuffled back to reclaim their lost homes, some of the Eminos who had missed the memo about Pop McSweets’ RV park or who had gotten lost on the way shouted their joy that they were able to meet up with other lost Eminos at other campsites. Suddenly, Pop McSweets wasn’t so sweet anymore. “But MY park had more people than YOURS did! Why does your piddly little campground even matter, huh?” He huffed at his pipe, dug his toe into the dirt and spun away with a loud “Harumph!”

Some of the Eminos began the long business of moving their belongings from their temporary campsites to help resettle Mini-New Orleans. The flood and the fire had shifted the roads from their familiar places and many of the old landmarks were simply gone. King Kong and Godzilla certainly hadn’t helped matters with their huge footprints tearing everything up.

The huge Home Depot store in MNO was wiped out by the storm and all the home decorating supplies had been swept out to sea (and/or eaten by the monsters), never to be seen again.

“WHAT?!?” Some of the resettling Eminos cried. “You mean I can’t redecorate my home RIGHT THIS SECOND?!? That’s it! I’m done! I don’t have time to wait!” They marched off and spent all day long complaining to the other Eminos about how they didn’t have time to wait to make things prettier.

Other Eminos continued shoveling through rubble, trying to help clean up the place. Some of the Eminos were experiencing problems with backed-up sinks and clogged toilets. They huffed and puffed and stomped their feet, but Joe the Plumber was busy recording a country album and running for state office in Ohio and the New Mayor was overwhelmed with the Eminos’ earlier requests for Mini-New Orleans.

“I can’t believe I have to deal with a clogged toilet and I don’t have a plumber here yet!” many of those Eminos whined.

“I have the same problem,” other Eminos replied. “But it’s only been a few days. The New Mayor will get someone here! He’s just busy.”

“I don’t care; this is ridiculous. I live in an instant gratification society and I want it fixed NOW!!! And for FREE!!! You hear me, Mr. Mayor? FREE!!! You do what we tell you to or we walk…like this!” And thus, more Eminos stormed away.

The remaining Eminos continued poking through what little wreckage was left (even though the Old Mayor said there was NO wreckage left), re-learning their way around the new layout of Mini-New Orleans.

“Wait, wait, wait…what do you mean he hasn’t rebuilt the Spanish Sixth yet? That was my favorite part of MNO!” some of the Eminos declared. “I simply can’t live here if we don’t already have the Spanish Sixth back! I don’t have time to wait for him to build it!” And even more Eminos stormed off to spend all day talking about how little time they had to waste.

In the meantime, this particular Emino was suffering a horrendous migraine from losing her respect of so many supposedly-adult Eminos kicking and screaming like 3-year-olds who were told they can’t have dessert until they eat their vegetables. MNO had been resettled and partially-abandoned, all within ONE WEEK of the beginning of its resurrection.

Moral of this story: Stop being such little whiny bitches (and bastards) and give the man some goddamned time to actually rebuild things. Why? I’m sick of hearing it and you are ALL better than the behavior that many of you have been displaying. It’s actually pretty disgusting, if you ask me.

This guy (Ivan, if you care) is here doing a GOOD thing for people that he doesn’t even know and all he is getting in return is bitching and complaining. It’s a wonder that he’s even trying at all.