I finally get it.
Only if you’re a victim 100 percent of the time and can blame everyone else for your problems you can absolve yourself of any responsibility for your lot in life.
Better yet, it is always somebody else that is making your life miserable and difficult. You have nothing to do with it.
Let’s see if I understand how this whole victim thing works.
Somewhere in my gene pool, there is bad eye sight. So since I can’t see too well and it is therefore difficult to read I can blame my ancestors when I don’t master a subject.
Since kids — and sometimes teachers — laughed at me in physical education, it is their fault I didn’t try physical exercise, so they’re to blame when I don’t try things like aerobics, hiking and such.
My bunions — and they’re not small — on both feet are a genetic gift from my mom. So it’s my mom’s fault I can’t jog, run or do aerobics.
Because I couldn’t see too well and was uncoordinated and kept falling off a bicycle to the point I had training wheels until I was 8 causing several adult neighbors to ridicule me, that’s why I can’t bicycle.
Since I weighed a lot as a kid — I tipped the scales at 260 pounds in seventh grade — and people made fun of me, I can’t lose weight or pursue a diet.
Given the fact every third classmate called me four-eyes as did my brothers, older relatives and even strangers when I was in the first grade, I can’t be socially engaging because I’ve been brutalized emotionally.
Since my mom had to work 60 hours a week after my dad died when I was 8, if I get in trouble with the law I can blame it on not having a stay-at-home mom or even a father figure growing up.
And because I had my salary cut in one-third right after buying my first house I can blame that for not paying my bills on time and use it as an excuse for not getting a second job because I was a victim of the economy.
A lot of times allergies and dust create a runny nose so there is no way I can get outside to do things.
I have a crack in my shoulder that occasionally gives me a nice case of bursitis thanks to a loose dog I hit going down hill on a bicycle. So I can blame the guy who let his dog loose for me not being able to lift, garden or do any heavy work.
The list goes on and on.
There are people out there who view every transgression — real or perceived — as proof positive they are victims. They live the victim thing 24/7 to the point where you have to conclude they perceive themselves as perfect. It is only because they have been victimized that there is misery or pain in their lives.
There was a time in this country where those who wanted to live the role as professional victim simply perished.
Victims don’t brave a voyage across the ocean. Victims don’t fight for their freedom. Victims didn’t head westward.
True, some of the immigrants and pioneers were persecuted, but they refused to live the life of a victim.
Victims wait for a miracle drug, a winning lottery ticket or Prince Charming.
They believe in the easy way out, a pill to strengthen their spirit and will, an economic windfall to buy a house or secure a better life, or the perfect mate to create a perfect life.
Those things only happen in fairy tales.
Life is give and take.
The bad comes with the good. The imperfect comes with the perfect in the same person.
Delayed gratification sometimes never produces the end result of the perfect home.
But chase the perfect life long enough while living the life of a victim and you’ll go crazy or you’ll at least attain full-blown victimhood.
If everything isn’t perfect, then it must be somebody else’s fault. But you know what’s so funny about victims? When something does come close to being what they want in life, they rush off and find another way to be a victim.
The victim’s mantra is never-ending. Their boss is making their life miserable. Their relatives are making their life miserable. The government is making their life miserable. Co-workers are making their life miserable. The Republicans are making their life miserable. The Democrats are making their life miserable. President Bush is making their life miserable.
The list of blame never ends for a true victim.
Only if you’re a victim 100 percent of the time and can blame everyone else for your problems you can absolve yourself of any responsibility for your lot in life.
Better yet, it is always somebody else that is making your life miserable and difficult. You have nothing to do with it.
Let’s see if I understand how this whole victim thing works.
Somewhere in my gene pool, there is bad eye sight. So since I can’t see too well and it is therefore difficult to read I can blame my ancestors when I don’t master a subject.
Since kids — and sometimes teachers — laughed at me in physical education, it is their fault I didn’t try physical exercise, so they’re to blame when I don’t try things like aerobics, hiking and such.
My bunions — and they’re not small — on both feet are a genetic gift from my mom. So it’s my mom’s fault I can’t jog, run or do aerobics.
Because I couldn’t see too well and was uncoordinated and kept falling off a bicycle to the point I had training wheels until I was 8 causing several adult neighbors to ridicule me, that’s why I can’t bicycle.
Since I weighed a lot as a kid — I tipped the scales at 260 pounds in seventh grade — and people made fun of me, I can’t lose weight or pursue a diet.
Given the fact every third classmate called me four-eyes as did my brothers, older relatives and even strangers when I was in the first grade, I can’t be socially engaging because I’ve been brutalized emotionally.
Since my mom had to work 60 hours a week after my dad died when I was 8, if I get in trouble with the law I can blame it on not having a stay-at-home mom or even a father figure growing up.
And because I had my salary cut in one-third right after buying my first house I can blame that for not paying my bills on time and use it as an excuse for not getting a second job because I was a victim of the economy.
A lot of times allergies and dust create a runny nose so there is no way I can get outside to do things.
I have a crack in my shoulder that occasionally gives me a nice case of bursitis thanks to a loose dog I hit going down hill on a bicycle. So I can blame the guy who let his dog loose for me not being able to lift, garden or do any heavy work.
The list goes on and on.
There are people out there who view every transgression — real or perceived — as proof positive they are victims. They live the victim thing 24/7 to the point where you have to conclude they perceive themselves as perfect. It is only because they have been victimized that there is misery or pain in their lives.
There was a time in this country where those who wanted to live the role as professional victim simply perished.
Victims don’t brave a voyage across the ocean. Victims don’t fight for their freedom. Victims didn’t head westward.
True, some of the immigrants and pioneers were persecuted, but they refused to live the life of a victim.
Victims wait for a miracle drug, a winning lottery ticket or Prince Charming.
They believe in the easy way out, a pill to strengthen their spirit and will, an economic windfall to buy a house or secure a better life, or the perfect mate to create a perfect life.
Those things only happen in fairy tales.
Life is give and take.
The bad comes with the good. The imperfect comes with the perfect in the same person.
Delayed gratification sometimes never produces the end result of the perfect home.
But chase the perfect life long enough while living the life of a victim and you’ll go crazy or you’ll at least attain full-blown victimhood.
If everything isn’t perfect, then it must be somebody else’s fault. But you know what’s so funny about victims? When something does come close to being what they want in life, they rush off and find another way to be a victim.
The victim’s mantra is never-ending. Their boss is making their life miserable. Their relatives are making their life miserable. The government is making their life miserable. Co-workers are making their life miserable. The Republicans are making their life miserable. The Democrats are making their life miserable. President Bush is making their life miserable.
The list of blame never ends for a true victim.
