My "Whine" Knob Goes to Eleven

I saw something funny today. Someone on another blog complained about me being "whiny" these days. I've heard that a few times, and it never comes from anyone whose opinion means anything to me. Usually, it's some embarrassing asshead like Bane, who feels like I betrayed "the movement." I'm like Dennis the Peasant and Acidman and Og and Moxie and a whole bunch of other "whiny" bloggers. I had the gall to pee on Pajamas Media and/or Instapundit and/or The Half-Hour News Hour and/or nutty old Ann Coulter, proving I was not a Team Player and was possibly even Subversive. I made fun of Fred Thompson for being the lamest candidate since Lenora Fulani, and I correctly called Ron Paul an asshole who blames America for terrorism. I have violated the Eleventh Commandment repeatedly. Clearly I'm not "on board," and I don't have that "smother the grenade with your belly" attitude which is so characteristic of media conservatives. Who, oddly, seem to be all about enriching themselves and not all that likely to take one for the team.

The thing is, there IS no movement. There's just a bunch of self-centered hucksters and pimps about one millimeter deeper than instant convert Arianna Huffington. I used to think she was remarkably vacuous and unprincipled, for pretending to become a liberal literally over a one-month period. Now I realize, she just has bigger balls than the others. I'll bet a lot of other media whores were genuinely awed and envious when she succeeded in changing her spots instantaneously. Because most of them would do the same thing, if they thought there was a nickel in it. And if they had her brass. There was no movement to betray. And aside from that, I was right about all those things. No one likes to mention that. No, it's easier to minimize and dismiss me by pretending "critical" is the same thing as "whiny."

Anyway, I don't hear "whiny" much, from people whose oxen I haven't gored. Of course, there aren't many people fitting that description.

The thing that strikes me as remarkable is the difference between the way I feel and "whiny"! Geez, I wake up every day, and I can't wait to get out of bed. I love life so much it worries me. My life was a garbage heap until I was in my thirties, and nothing I did seemed to help. And now I have time and money to explore my talents, and I get to write every single day, and I've even had three books published! Whine? My God, about what?

My health is fantastic. I have tons of energy, and I feel good almost all the time. My finances are in great shape, for the foreseeable future. I'm conquering challenges that have gnawed at me for decades. My relationship with God gets better every day. My work brings me indescribable satisfaction. I don't have to deal with courts any more! I even have a great editor to work with, which is about as likely as winning at Powerball. Is this how "whiny" feels? I love it. I want to be even whinier.

I really do worry about enjoying life so much. After all, it may be partly due to mental illness. I come from a family with lots of mental problems. And while I was never anywhere near bipolar, I had pretty sizable swings back in the past. And now I still have swings, only they go from okay to really happy, instead of miserable to okay. I've written about it before. I think I may have what psychologists call "hypomania," which is a mild version of what manic depressives have when they're on top of the world, running around naked, claiming to be Jesus.

I guess that in the past, a part of me hoped that my criticism of the conservative media would make someone in a position of power consider doing me a favor and helping me get ahead. To that extent, I whined. But I don't feel that way now. I wouldn't know what to do, if I got an opportunity to become a conservative media figure. The truth is, it would be very disturbing, because I don't want it. I don't want to have to pretend to like a bunch of insincere, untalented, selfish, blackballing, petty, unprofessional, immature, backstabbing schmucks. I don't want to have to wake up every day and try to think of something sensationally offensive to say about Hillary Clinton. I don't want gay waiters to pee in my soup, the way they pee in Rush Limbaugh's and Roger Ailes's. I don't want decent liberals to hate me. And I don't want to be limited to politics.

I wish I were already raking in tons of money. And I need to improve my ability to structure and polish books. Regardless, I see things in my work that bring me so much satisfaction, I get pleasure that monetary success could never replace. Even though a lot of things I write are flawed, sometimes I create things that convince me that I picked the right career, and that even if I have to find another way to earn money some day, the years I spent writing will have been well worth it. I guess I'm like the composer Alkan, who was content to spend his days alone, creating compositions and playing the piano and reading the Talmud. I get a bigger thrill from standing in the garage, looking at the things I've done with tools, than I ever got from practicing law. I'm not making that up; that's really true.

Things are coming together, and it's not just my work and hobbies I'm talking about. And I am enjoying watching it all unfold. I know people want to manipulate me when they say negative things about me; they want me to be the reliable company man they think I used to be. That's their tough luck. The way I see it, their discontent probably only means I need to rotate a more suitable sort of people into my readership.

Most of the time, I feel tremendously blessed, and the rest of the time, I still feel pretty good. If that's whining, God, let me be a whiner for the rest of my life.