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Complainer-in-chief

I never used to want to be president. It always seemed like a lot of work. My work ethic makes me more suited for a job like reality show host or being super rich. Lately, though, I’ve had to rethink things. You know what I think would be awesome about being president? Getting to complain about stuff all the time. This is, of course, a perk that presidents (George Washington through Barack Obama) totally failed to cash in on. Sad! But this latest guy? Man, he knows how to do it. He complains like it’s his job! Like, you might start to wonder if he actually believes it is his official position — complainer-in-chief. Now that’s a title I’d like to have.

I’ve never been a big fan of our current president, but maybe we have more in common than I first thought. What I really admire about him is how he doesn’t limit himself to focusing on politics or foreign affairs or any of the other boring stuff you might expect from an elected official. Quite the contrary, he loves to complain about things you’d never expect! All this time you probably thought the commander-in-chief would be too busy to offer his opinions on television shows or Snoop Dogg — think again, kids. The president has no limit on what he’ll whine about, and neither do I.

My father once told me: “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” I was 16 and did not want a job, so I walked around naked for a good three or four months. But recently I think I get what my dad was trying to say: if there’s a career you’re passionate about, you have to show people you’ve got what it takes. So why have I been wasting my time telling people that I’m good at complaining? It’s time to prove myself. Here’s some stuff that really pisses me off.

Phones

Phones, particularly of the cellular variety, stress me out. If my phone doesn’t ring, that means nobody wants to talk to me and I have no friends. If it does ring, that means I have to talk to someone. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. Nowadays, most people communicate via text, so if you get a phone call, it can only mean one of two things: you’re about to get bad news or it’s a telemarketer. If it’s bad news, buckle up. People only call if it’s something really awful. If your dog died, expect a text. House burned down? That one’s easy to Snapchat. But if you’re getting a phone call, it’s probably your great-uncle or something, the one you thought was dead, but actually he was just in Bermuda with his shuffleboard team, and now he’s calling because he’s pretty angry you thought he was dead and he’s writing you out of his will. You can kiss that antique shuffleboard goodbye, and you know who’s to blame? Phones. You might as well throw yours out anyway since nowadays we can all just listen to each other’s conversations through our microwaves.

Raccoons

Lately people seem to think it’s okay to post “cute” videos of raccoons on Facebook. Calling a raccoon cute is like calling me ugly — it’s just never been true. A raccoon is evil incarnate. There’s not a single raccoon on this planet that doesn’t have rabies and that’s a fact. You know those people who will notice your haircut and ask “did you get a haircut?” but then when you say yes they don’t even say it looks good? Those people will be reincarnated as raccoons.

WWE

Yes, I mean the professional wrestling one. But to be clear, I don’t hate it for all the usual reasons. People are always complaining about how it’s overdramatic and the fights aren’t even real. Did you see my whole thing about raccoons? I love overdramatic. What really bothers me about WWE, though, is the lack of creativity. Guess what will happen next time you tune into WWE. A strong person will fight another strong person and the slightly stronger person will win — gee, what a thrill. How about something fresh and exciting? I want to see somebody’s mom fight the woman from her book club she’s always complaining about. Or what if a grizzly bear fights another grizzly bear and the annoying woman from the book club is also somehow peripherally involved? Or maybe just have the bears fight but then afterwards we can pull the woman from the book club up onstage and tell her that interpretations of last week’s novel were just completely missing the mark. You know what else pisses me off? That woman from the book club.

I also hate cucumbers, close-toed shoes, the size of beverages on airplanes, this guy named David, scantrons and potlucks without sign-up sheets to ensure a diverse array of dishes. Anyway, I’m starting to see the issue with my complaints: they’re just too long. To be complainer-in-chief you’ve got to be succinct, to the point. I guess I’m not ready for the job yet. And who would run for president when they’re totally unqualified for the position, right? For now, I’ll have to keep honing my skills. Sad!

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