I used to know a preacher who spent more time praying about our problems than our blessings. That person purely did love to whine.
Now I'm not sure what Deuteronomy says about whiners, so I won't pass judgment on the soundness of that theology, but I can certainly understand it -- at least occasionally.
I try to be positive and spend as much time as possible writing about things I like, but once in a great while I find myself feeling about like that preacher. I will wake up in a bad mood and just naturally want to whine a little bit. Today, for whatever reason, was one of those days. While I have more blessings than I could possibly count, I seem to find myself focusing on things I don't like rather than things I do.
Take venison for instance. I don't like it. I don't mind that you do, understand. But I don't. And, yes, I've tried it. I've tried it all sorts of ways. I've had deer roast, barbecued deer, fried deer steaks and deer burgers. I've had deer smothered in onion gravy and served straight up. I don't like it and I don't want to try it ever again -- no matter how you cook it. Thanks anyway.
George H.W. Bush (41) didn't want to eat broccoli. I don't want to eat Bambi, or any of his relatives.
Speaking of food -- I don't like chitterlings, either. They smell too much like what they are to suit me -- although Clarence Henderson once told me they smelled just like money to him. I do like turnip greens, but not without cornbread to soak up the pot liquor.
I don't like cigarette smoke. I'm about cigarette smoke like I am about venison. If you want to inhale gaseous poisons into your lungs, making your clothes stink, your fingers yellow, and your life shorter, that's entirely up to you. But please don't make me breathe your smoke by standing right in the doorways of public buildings, making it impossible for me to enter or leave without walking through a purple haze.
I don't like Barack Obama. It has nothing to do with his race. I don't like Joe Biden, either -- and he is about as white as they come.
I used to claim that I don't like Georgia Tech or anybody that does -- at least not on Saturdays during football season. But then my daughter started working for a Tech man and my son took up with a girl who goes to Tech and -- well, I have learned to tolerate a few Jacket fans -- 364 days a year, anyway.
I don't like sitting in traffic or stopping for the same red light more than once. This, of course, is a problem for anybody who lives in Conyers and wants to drive somewhere between the hours of 6 a.m. and midnight. I don't like going out late at night, either, so I guess I'm just out of luck when it comes to getting around town.
I really don't like what television has done to sporting events. Take college football for instance. Folks can't even make plans to attend a horse race and a football game on the same day because television has the power to dictate a 3:30 kickoff. And the games take forever to play because they have five minutes of commercials after every first-down. Don't even get me started on baseball. Four-and-a-half hour World Series games seem like a poor way to win fans and influence customers.
I don't like Friday's crossword puzzle. It's too darned hard. I love the Monday crossword, but not Friday's.
As long as I'm getting it out of my system, I don't like fire ants or crab grass, and my yard is full of both. If anybody knows how to get rid of either, please let me know. I also don't like hard rock music or rap. In fact, I probably like fire ants more than I like rap. I also don't like pierced eyebrows or tongue rings -- especially if I have to actually look at them.
I don't like paying $3.65 a gallon for gasoline, either. It seems like just yesterday we were paying $1.89. It wasn't yesterday, of course. It was January 2009.
I don't like rude people, and we seem to be overrun with rude people these days. I went into a place of business a few days ago, intending to spend a large amount of money on a frivolous purchase. A store employee came up to me and said, "Hey, dude, ready for me to hook you up?" Is it just me or isn't that rude? Do I really look like a "dude?" Needless to say, I didn't let this guy "hook me up" with anything.
I also don't like whiners, so I'll quit being one. And I promise -- the next time I sit down to write something for y'all, I'll be back to talking about things I like -- like vine-ripened tomatoes and homemade peach ice cream.
Darrell Huckaby is a local educator and author. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. For past columns, visit www.rockdalecitizen.com or www.newtoncitizen.com.