The ugly american is such a desperately sad figure, so pathetic, so hurt. Can’t you see him strutting aroung and pounding his little fists. Maybe he’ll go out and try his power out on someone else, when he gets himself so riled up with the lack of attention he feels he deserves. He’s fearful in the sense that one wishes to keep him away from children. He’s dangerous to those obviously weaker than he is. His greed and self-aggrandizement are what make him so miserable, so miserly, so much lower than anyone else. Even though he drives a big car and eats like a pig, and elbows people out of the way, he’s really homeless, almost soul-less. He doesn’t have a nice thing to say, even though deep inside he still has a human soul; he desperately fears connecting with other beings, wishing instead to call them names, trying to pull them down below his own hellish state.
This is a person already in hell. He can never be happy, unless he’s consuming others, grabbing up whatever he can, or cheating others of what they deserve. Oh he makes a big show of his generosity, but when things get tight, he’s back to pushing, back-stabbing, and trying to take unfair advantage. The days for people like him will end soon, perhaps even in his lifetime, perhaps not, and then he will miss out on his own redemption, which might possibly come about if he opens his heart and mind to other people, to other ideas, to consider even for a moment that all people are worthy of respect—not above each other, but side by side in their suffering, joy and mortality.
Good Luck, you mis-led soul. You, too, have inside what is noble and respectworthy, and when you find it, you will also come to respect others and yourself. Until then, when you are in pain, it’s okay to reach out to another person and ask for help. And even if you lash out, we will know in our hearts what it is you really need, and we’ll attempt to show you some kindness, respect and hide our pity.
The ugly american is such a desperately sad figure, so pathetic, so hurt. Can’t you see him strutting aroung and pounding his little fists. Maybe he’ll go out and try his power out on someone else, when he gets himself so riled up with the lack of attention he feels he deserves. He’s fearful in the sense that one wishes to keep him away from children. He’s dangerous to those obviously weaker than he is. His greed and self-aggrandizement are what make him so miserable, so miserly, so much lower than anyone else. Even though he drives a big car and eats like a pig, and elbows people out of the way, he’s really homeless, almost soul-less. He doesn’t have a nice thing to say, even though deep inside he still has a human soul; he desperately fears connecting with other beings, wishing instead to call them names, trying to pull them down below his own hellish state.
This is a person already in hell. He can never be happy, unless he’s consuming others, grabbing up whatever he can, or cheating others of what they deserve. Oh he makes a big show of his generosity, but when things get tight, he’s back to pushing, back-stabbing, and trying to take unfair advantage. The days for people like him will end soon, perhaps even in his lifetime, perhaps not, and then he will miss out on his own redemption, which might possibly come about if he opens his heart and mind to other people, to other ideas, to consider even for a moment that all people are worthy of respect—not above each other, but side by side in their suffering, joy and mortality.
Good Luck, you mis-led soul. You, too, have inside what is noble and respectworthy, and when you find it, you will also come to respect others and yourself. Until then, when you are in pain, it’s okay to reach out to another person and ask for help. And even if you lash out, we will know in our hearts what it is you really need, and we’ll attempt to show you some kindness, respect and hide our pity.