I'm not a Number

What in the world is going on in my country?
Since the country's beginnings, we were joyously given an opportunity to follow happenstance, and our educations, guts and intuitive capabilities allowed us to go forward to pursue our own place in society or farther.  Individuals - with beliefs that could reason, and now especially in an age where most certainly those with differing views, skin-tones and sexes can make a difference - make a name.
And yet throughout the Americas, groups of people have deemed themselves numbers or percentages, and perhaps this to belong to a collective - to give themselves a "small-group" in which that number could have significance; a big fish in a small pond.
Our country has grown in population, but why does that have to diminish the individual to a numeric category. 

• I am the 99%.
• I am the 53%.

Cliches. 
Americans have lost their creativity, so much so that names do not matter unless one is at the top of his economic or political ladder.  Washington DC (which by the way has the richest population per capita in the United States) and the banks do not care about any single one of us, unless we are voting for them or buying into their loans. 
The difference of course between the two of these entities is that one group can either lie or backtrack on their promises, and the other one, in order to save its slimy scales, will word contracts that we willingly sign in the "lawyer-speak" - thereby making it difficult to understand, nudging gently into agreeing with what in hindsight is completely ludacris; the word "mortgage" means "til death".
One more word regarding banks, especially those who promise school loans, car loans and mortgages - read the words (the fine print too - and I know that it's hard to understand) and then remember this "Caveat Emptor".  Difficult?  Don't sign!
I am not a number.
I wake up 4 or 5 depending upon what days I am opening the business.  And work 50 to 60 hours a week.  My wife, who I love more than bread, works another job, which actually helps our business.  I do not have cable or satelite TV.  I pay my mortgage.  I pay my dang'on student loan to a company that I paid for that is now being handled by some jackass that lives in Pakistan.  We have health insurance, it's bloody expensive, but it beats the alternative.  My health care plan is exercise and restraint. We give personally and through the business to countless organizations throughout the community including to public school systems whose unions are among the strongest and hungriest in the country.  We pay a lot in taxes and with more than ten employees are constantly under scrutiny and unwarranted tax obligations and adjustments. 
I probably belong to a number or a percentage.  I just don't care to know what it is.
I am not a number.
- neither are you.  So stop acting like it!

The Great American Cheese Debacle

One of our younger bakers had dropped a tub of grated American cheese onto the kitchen floor in the cafe. Though inconvenient, she went about the task of dutifully cleaning it up - albeit with a disgruntled face.
I responded by explaining, jokingly, "Hey. It's not New Orleans."
"The federal government really screwed that one up, huh?"
"No, they didn't. Look at Memphis. Different and overly loved president, and the looting, though not as publicized, has been even greater."
"Yeah, you're probably right."
"Heck, in the Trib, they interviewed a person living there who said that while people were screaming for help, within earshot were looters who were not only disinterested in them, but were probably stealing their crap in the meantime. And then you look at Northern Japan - who knows how many people killed and places destroyed, and you don't see them looting! It's not a federal government's fault... it's a people fault. I mean the hurricane happened nearly a decade ago, and people can't get their act together?"
People blame others when they can not get their lazy hind ends together. Not only that, but these same people who bitch and moan about their situations, and how that "George Bush" is responsible, not only cheer on the demise of others, but because misery loves company,are willing to aid in that destruction. If they don't get that handout on time or in continuation, again it is not their fault, but someone else's.
The common arguments:
1. I'm fat.
2. I'm addicted to _____.
3. I'm unemployed.
4. I'm unemployable.
5. I'm stupid.
6. I'm poor.
7. I've done everything that I could, but i just can't______.
8. My credit sucks.
9. I can't because I'm (pick a race, sex, persuasion, marital status, faith orientation...).
10. I suck.
The excuse:
1. Pick a politician (or party).
2. Pick a neighbor.
3. Pick a race, sex, persuasion, marital status, faith orientation...
4. Whatever you do - do not pick yourself.
When things are great, we typically find ourselves only to blame in our successes, and when they are bad, the unenlightened masses find others. There is no disputing that our situations are sometimes dictated to us by circumstances, and some circumstances are indeed very difficult to weather; however, we, in adverse conditions, must seek to define our compass and go forward - from a terrible situation to a better one.
And there are some who will argue that bad things happen to them all the time and that getting "out of the mud" is impossible (heck, I even felt that way); with that in mind one must remember again that misery loves company; this does not just include hangers-on - it includes the magnetic attraction that misery has on circumstances.
Remember the old adage: "Out of the frying pan, and into the fire."
Idea: Stay away from the stove!

Now, like a good ol' talking head, who knows nothing, I could blather on about this and complain about the ills of society, leaving my spotlessness to myself; however, I have gone through bouts of depression, misguidedness, misery, jobloss (which seems to have become a single word), heart issues, broken bones, trips to the hospital - all of this leading me to ask, "Why me?"
Which begs, "Why not me?"
The fact is that I am blessed. I am by no means rich and at times we struggle; however, we can pay our mortgage and feed ourselves. I am no Charles Atlas, yet I can walk, run, jump, and pick up my daughter. And in spite of a lot of bashing to my faith, I can worship the way I need to - for which I am immensely grateful.
I guess I am tired of people, including myself, complaining (period).
It rains. Get an umbrella. Don't wait for the rain to stop.
It shines. Wear sunglasses.
You hungry. Eat something, and remember that there are people in this world who may never ever read this crappy essay, and will never know how tasty that oily, orange-mustard colored government-issue American "cheese" really is.