T.J. McCormack

For the past 7 years I’ve had really nice cars. First a Mercedes when we were making tons of dough, and had very little overhead. Next a Jaguar-for the sake of full disclosure we were so vain that we had his and her’s Jags, her’s Silver, mine Blue. Then we bought a house, and Andi slid into a practical Honda CRV, and your writer Lord Fauntleroy got myself a Cadillac CTS. The friggin’ nerve of me. Truth be told, it was a ridiculous lease deal that honestly was less expensive than a Camry or Accord.

Over the past two years, we’ve lost nearly $100,000 in the value of our house, our business is off by about 25% and oh yeah, we have a little Irish meatball named Millie whom we created and lives in the under-water house with us. While watching the financial demise of what seems like the entire universe, we have just about held on. Now I am wired to run and hide when the pressure is on. I hate the term “man-up”. When the going gets tough, I prefer to lie down. I don’t wanna know. No news is good news, so don’t open the mail, don’t go to the doctor and certainly DON’T answer the phone.

Well, having a baby can change a man. Knowing one’s self  better can change a man. ACTUALLY counting one’s blessings can change a man. In other words, I’m a changed man. Instead of virtually running from this, by the grace of God I have been meeting these challenges head on. I have been working harder to get ahead. I have been reaching out to and surrounding myself with people who I strive to be like. But for all my efforts, nothing felt like I was making a dent until yesterday.

Yesterday, while sitting in the Cadillac dealership about to sign to buy a new Cadillac SRX, I knew something was wrong. I think it may have been the acid in my stomach that could have stripped the Caddy of its paint. Seriously, my PH level was in such disarray, that I felt sour from my hair to my ankles. I breathed a few deep ones, and determined that not only don’t I need a Cadillac, but right now, I don’t need any car at all.

Ever since then, I have felt so good about myself. There is something so great about not only taking responsibility, but DOING the responsible THING. I actually feel more qualified to hold my daughter and tell her I love her. I feel less full of shite. I feel good about myself.

All of this brings to mind those in this country who have fallen under the spell of the tragedy that is liberalism. Those poor people who by virtue of their victim status and apathy will never know this vitality I am feeling. I realized I was breaking my own spirit by lying to myself, by avoiding the truth that money is tight right now. Simple. Where’s the shame? Shame is putting your baby in jeopardy to satisfy your own vanity. Shame is in grandiosity and being judgmental.

It is actually exciting to be exercising my conservative muscles here. I’m taking responsibility, helping myself and learning along the way. I’m being selfless and diligent. I am not blaming anybody for the situation and I am not hiding in fear. I am staying in the solution, and praying for guidance and the strength to carry it out.

Yesterday I swallowed my pride, and ever since, I’ve been burping up a feeling being proud…two different things. One very bad metaphor, and two very different things.

What would the liberals have me do? What do you think?