Who Has Time to Protest?

So these "Occupy Wall Street" and "Occupy My Street" and "Occupy Our House in the Middle of the Street" protests have been going on for quite some time (at least two hours).  Personally, I find protesting to be a waste of time.  First of all, you are stuck outside, exposed to all sorts of crazy elements (like fire, and water and the glowing ball in the sky) chanting poorly designed slogans to get people to ask what is wrong?  Seriously?  At least put some effort into it by turning your chants into a song.  Maybe sprinkle some choreography in there.  Throw in a few strobe lights and maybe a set of Lady Gaga-esque outfits and people might start caring about you.

But really, who has time for that?  I barely have time to blog about how big of a waste it actually is.  I am very busy...always.  Maybe, if you would get a job, or at least a hobby since jobs might be hard to come by, you wouldn't have time to sit on a street corner and call out your demands (plus ten points for prostitute reference!).   I literally don't even have time to eat on some days because I'm going from one thing to the next to the next to the next to the next.  And then I pass out from lack of eating and wake up, several hours later, in a daze.  But that's besides the point.

Now yes, I understand that freedom of speech is important and that it is your civilian right to complain about stuff that you think is important, but, as an extreme complainer, I'll let you in on a little secret.  People stop caring.  That's right.  After you keep complaining and nagging away your life, people just do not give a flying frick.  Sure, you can keep right on complaining all you want, but people will just talk about how annoying you are behind your back.  Or in front of your back, depending on how the positioning of their later conversation unfolds.  I suppose they could be on the side of you as well.

In conclusion, GET A JOB OR GET LAID!  For rizzeal.  That is all.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go do something fulfilling with my life.  Right after Facebook.

Occupied,
Brian