As I write this, I am having a really rough day, and I can’t even tell anyone about it.
I’m on a summer break, which really ticks people off, and for some reason, texting complaints to my friends while they work is not generating much pity. They can be so selfish sometimes.
They don’t care that I’m stuck at my third favorite coffee shop because my first two favorites are downtown and inaccessible due to my three-week protest of Columbia’s parking system.
The Wi-Fi is slow. The acoustics and overall environment are quite inferior. The ambient music is light rock, which is really a marketing term for stale pop music one step away from public domain, like Rod Stewart and Tina Turner.
I just texted my wife that I’m having a sugar crash from doughnuts, and she didn’t even text back.
You know what it is? Jealousy.
Being overweight, I can’t even tell people when I’m hungry. They just look at my belly and then my face, and smirk: “Well, maybe if you hadn’t already eaten everything.”
I married way up, so I can’t complain when my wife and I have a disagreement. Once before our marriage, my wife and I got into a fight, and my parents both told me, “Just say you’re wrong.”
“But I’m not wrong.”
“Who cares? You’ll never find anyone better. Don’t blow this.” I haven’t been right in 15 years and no one has even heard my side of the stories.
The other day, I was talking to a friend about life insurance and how I suspected my wife was poisoning my food, and he said, “Your wife cooks?”
Right now, dear reader, you are not feeling sorry for me either. I would rest my case, but I’m not finished.
As a society, we are eaten up with jealousy and spite. We tax the rich, make fun of nerds, smile at SUV drivers at gas stations, laugh when Terrell Owens drops a pass, write viruses for Windows and kick cats when no one is looking.
We have to outlaw anything that seems enjoyable to others, and I’m currently trying to start a rumor that Ryan Reynolds has athlete’s tongue.
Greece, beautiful Greece, is on the verge of cannibalism, and our coverage focuses on what it might do to our interest rates.
No one has ever felt sorry for the French or the Swiss or the Hawaiians. Ever.
Los Angeles will be decimated pending the next major earthquake, and not one person in Hollywood has been warned. Why? Could be jealousy.
We know the residents are unaware because Michael Bay hasn’t made a bad movie about it yet. It is possible that they have been warned but simply do not believe it. They do that. It’s even more probable that I’m jealous.
Examine your heart. Do you hate the Yankees? Did you giggle inside when LeBron lost the championship this year? Does your day get better when you see a young person in a Mustang pulled over by police?
I’ll give you another example, and this is the real reason I am writing this piece.
Last week, Casey Anthony was spared the ax by a jury from Florida. First of all, none of us has expressed compassion for Floridians about how embarrassing this must be for them.
Why? Because they live in Florida. They have Disney and a beach climate.
Do I think Casey is guilty? Yes. Did our court system fail to serve justice? Kind of.
But I like knowing that as an American, my country will not execute me based on hunches and circumstantial evidence. Pause. I just premeditated on that.
If given the chance, I get the impression that most Americans would prefer an "American Idol" court system.
Everything would be similar to the current method — a couple of greedy showmen perform for a panel of informed, critical eyes. From there, though, we would have changes.
In the "American Idol" court system, the jury would narrow the options for the real judges — the untrained, unaccountable spectators at home. These people — everyday people watching the show on "trial night Tuesday" with their friends — could text in a corresponding code for their choice of verdict.
Of course, Floridians in Broward and Miami-Dade counties could mess it up by accidentally entering the wrong code, leaving the fans of a slighted defendant forever bitter and disgruntled about the whole system.
Even more damaging, the slighting could generate so much sympathy for a losing, yet opportunistic defendant that he could publish a propaganda lecture that is marketed as a movie.
It’s not likely, though. Have faith in people.
Getting back to my point, most Americans decided Casey was guilty as soon as they saw her three years ago.
She came into the court wearing lipstick, and her hair had been neatly groomed. She had on makeup and her eyes were bright from beauty sleep. I, for one, didn’t realize that being arraigned on second-degree murder charges was no reason to look frumpy.
Yes, we condemned Gary Busey on his appearance, but that was because it seemed like incarceration might be the benevolent thing because he would be safer from whatever nefarious forces were obviously against him.
Here’s more. An article from USAToday suggests that females are three times more likely to be angered by the Anthony verdict than males are.
What this means is that women are likely to be blinded by envy. On a side note, the study also shows that men are likely to be blinded by testosterone, which is why female drivers get more warnings per traffic stop than their male counterparts, and, oddly, why men seem OK with it.
Even with all the failures of our system, Casey Anthony nearly died because she is pretty. Makes me worried since I am so handsome.
Guess I can’t talk to my friends about that either.
Brad Clemons loathes Columbia’s parking system but is thankful Simon Cowell and Simon Fuller weren’t the Founding Fathers of our court system.