Monday, February 14, 2005
I am Harry, hear me whine!
I have a philosophy about whining. For those of you already familiar with the story I’m about to relate (as I have previously told it, but cannot find the reference while flying to Florida) I apologize. You may skip the next few paragraphs should you feel so inclined.
Early one football season during my high school years, I played across the line from an offensive tackle that spent the better half of the first quarter moaning, groaning, and complaining to the referee about the treatment given him by my defensive colleagues. After each play had ended, he would complain loudly:
Hey, Ref! He’s holding me!
C’mon Ref! He cheap shot me!
And so on, and so forth.
For the record, I and my defensive line brethren steadfastly deny anything resembling a cheap shot. All our shots on him were legal, well placed, and highly effective. I digress.
At the end of the quarter, after having to endure much whining and moaning, the referee pulled the lineman aside and very forcefully said the following:
Son, they’re not cheap shotting you. They’re kicking your ass!
This offensive lineman reminds me of “Dusty” Harry Reid (D-NV) – Senate Minority Leader. Dusty Harry took to the Senate floor yesterday to whine. You see, after all his years in public service and having reached the pinnacle of his career, Dusty Harry doesn’t like it when people take shots at him. Evidently the RNC has compiled a list of Dusty Harry’s meandering political positions. Some detailed research has gone into this, and every word is Harry’s.
Dusty Harry even went so far as to decry the defeat of his predecessor, Tiny Tommy Daschle – blaming it on viscous personal attacks. Sorry, Harry. Tiny Tommy was tossed out by his own voters. Remember, your situation is very similar to his.
There are effective ways to deal with criticism. You can attempt to refute it. You can ignore it. Or you can follow Dusty Harry’s example and whine. Its pretty early in the game to start whining, Harry. We haven’t even gotten warmed up yet.
And finally, on a thought completely unrelated to Dusty Harry and his meandering band of Half Wits…
In my rush to get to the airport today, I pulled up next to a VW Jetta with a very interesting bumpersticker. It read “Half of My Heart is in Afghanistan”. This woman is the wife of a soldier, sailor, airman, or marine. She bears the true weight of this conflict. She pulled off before I could get her attention – her thoughts obviously elsewhere and justifiably so. Valentine’s Day is a hard time to be separated by so big a distance. I sincerely hope some flowers made it her way.
Here endeth the lesson.