Sunday, January 23, 2005

America the Spoiled

Perhaps its PMS, perhaps its the 18 or so inches of snow outside, which will be beautiful, all white and powdery for exactly one day (until dirt and vehicle fumes color it gray, followed by black), or perhaps its just because I feel like it, I'm in a crappy mood, which means, folks, the inevitable will happen: I will find a news item that pisses me off. And here it is.

If you don't feel like reading the whole thing, I'll sum it up for you. The story is about gym Resolutioners, the folks who join a gym around New Years, who take up space in locker rooms, fitness classes, weight rooms, cardio machines, and trainer time. One woman, whose impressive story about dedication to her fitness routine, says "All of you taking up space should just go away." By the way, Vicki Holland is an occupational therapist, someone who rehabs people with work-related injuries like carpal tunnel syndrome -- she gets paid to re-teach you how to pick up a spoon.

Then, 32-year-old banker (we should be impressed again) Stuart Hastie complains about people not knowing rules or putting weights back. I wonder, does Stuart Hastie?

Why devote two paragraphs on the bitching, yet again, of wimpy-ass gym-goers? Because these clowns are typical of the spoiled rotten urban American. They pay for machinery to keep them fit, chemistry to keep them looking younger, and electronics to bring their worlds together. I can walk down the street and answer email with my Blackberry. I can telecommute. I can't get it up, so I'll take a pill. I can't be bothered to find a nice street to run, so I'll get on a glorified hamster wheel. Dollars to donuts, these same blockheads who complain about crowded gyms are rule-breakers and as inconsiderate as the people they complain about: they talk on their cell phones while you're trying to sweat out your last mile, they drop weights that are too heavy or they grunt loudly as if they've eaten too much cheese, depositing their used towel(s) in the bin is too much to do so they leave it(them) in a pile on the floor, they chat with their pals on the stretching mat, but they aren't stretching.

And in other spoiled rotten news, has the Times run out of things to write about? Do we really care where the young conservative hangs out? Funny, how a club frequented by rappers and rap music execs attracts so much more attention, for activities not terribly different from those at venues frequented by YR's (Young Repubs). Oh, silly me. Having a bodyguard is so much worse than having a crooked father.


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