If there’s any type of characters that I absolutely can not abide, it’s the ones who prance around telling other people what to think, how to feel, what they need, or who they’ve decided they are.
For starters, individuals of that ilk always possess an egocentric arrogance that is gasp-inspiring. They have to; they could never make such presumptuous pronouncements without it. Their heads would have to be swelled to the size of hot air balloons but they never seem to wake up and realize it. Oh, no. They think their proclamations are factual and seem to believe the world entire is waiting to hear them. If they didn’t, they’d have the good sense to keep their mouths shut.
I’ve seen enough of these clowns in action that I’ve always tried to make a point of never informing someone of what I think is going on with them, even when it’s obvious. I’d rather say, “Do you think it might be possible that you might be feeling such-in-such,” and let them answer, rather than arrogantly announcing, “You’re feeling this!”
Lost of times their motivation can be placed squarely on the fact that they’re selling something. That doesn’t excuse the rudeness of their declarations about what they’ve decided you think, need, feel or are, but at least it makes it a wee bit understandable. The sales dorks almost always represent some kind of panacea to one of the ills of the world, and desperately need to convince you that you are suffering from that particular problem or condition – ergo, you need their product. Pay up, pay up! A lot of the products target those who want to look better or younger, whether it’s balding men, overweight women, or anybody with freckles, liver spots, dry skin or wrinkles. The lady who ran a spa on a cruise ship I was on once tried to convince me that, for $99.00, if I put a cream anywhere that I felt was “fat” and rubbed the cream off with a brush, it would loosen the fat cells and allow me to lose weight faster, if you can believe it. That was the last time I attended any cruise ship’s onboard free seminar.
I’ve also seen several friends targeted by “New Age gurus” who get them to pay thousands upon thousands of dollars for seminars on what kinds of thoughts they should have. There’s past-life regression therapists, who tell people their misery was caused by their own actions in another life, which “of course” they can’t remember without the therapist’s dubious but high-priced “help.” In New York City I’ve heard there’s even a charlatan who charges people $600 to float for an hour in a hot tub in the dark, which she says replicates their time (get this) in the womb, since their birth has allegedly “traumatized” them. “How does she know what your past life or your birth was like,” I’ll never be able to resist adding when I hear of a tale like this, “was she there?” That usually gives the customers of these con artists pause, and getting them to stop and think about it before proceeding is the best you can hope for when your friends are about to be taken in by their scams. ”Why are you letting someone you don’t know inform you of what you need?” It’s low-class and underhanded, but it does work if they target easily influenced people. It also earns the contempt of the rest of us.
Even worse are the ones who aren’t selling anything. They just view themselves as godlike and think those they meet are awaiting their “verdict” about them. Their supercilious worldview is beyond bonkers, but it sort of fascinates me, though I never want to get to know them better just to watch them in action. When I was a kid growing up on the accident-prone corner of East Third Avenue and Linden Road in Roselle, New Jersey, so did watching a car wreck, but I didn’t want to be involved in one of those, either.
That brings me to the subject of this blog post: New Jersey’s wonderfully outspoken governor, the incomparable Chris Christie. He reminds me of all that I’ve read about President Harry S. Truman, one of my favorite historical figures, the gutsy guy from Missouri who led us through the end of World War II, to ownership of his actions, and even had a sign on his desk that declared, “The buck stops here.” I was raised in a family of political Independents and brought up to look not at a candidate’s political party but at what each candidate can add to the greater good. An honest, direct-dealing politician like Chris Christie is a joy to watch in action. When surfers remained too long on a beach that was closing in anticipation of Hurricane Irene, Governor Christie went on television and said, “Ge the hell off the beach!” This man tells it like it is. I may now live in New York, but he makes me proud to hail from New Jersey.
There is talk that Governor Christie might run for President in 2016. This week he got the “honor” of being the subject of a news report where a doctor who has never met him, let alone examined him, announced to the world that he’s so overweight he would never live to carry out the presidency, should he get elected. It might have been just another presumptuous news story except the governor’s twelve-year-old saw it and became justifiably upset by it, thinking his dad was going to die. That’s not right on any level.
The governor is aware that he has a health issue with his weight, but he was not about to lie down and say nothing about a doctor who had never examined him making pronouncements that upset his child, either. Governor Christie calls her “a hack” and tells her point-blank that unless she gets on a plane and examines him, she should shut up. Here’s the video of Governor Christie’s brilliant reply. Somewhere, Harry Truman must be smiling. I know I am!