We all know the type. Can't enjoy anything. The world is their oyster and they're allergic to shellfish. Life is a bowl of cherries that you can't wash thoroughly enough to get rid of all the pesticides and don't you know what agribusiness is doing to the soil and how it's polluting the aquifers and contributing to global warming?
Eeyores.
Gloomy old Eeyores, who are their own worst enemies, and you can't help feeling sorry for them...as long as they're content to remain all alone in their gloomy places, where it's rather boggy and sad, munching on their thistles, and grumbling to themselves.
It's when they insist on wandering over to our part of the Hundred Acre Wood to insist that it's just as gloomy in Roo's sandpit or that honey tastes no better than thistles and even if it does it's not worth the effort of disguising yourself as a little black rain cloud to try to get some, because you're only going to get stung in the end, that Eeyores become a nuisance.
What makes them so annoying is their assumption that they're doing us a favor by sharing their gloom and we ought to be grateful for having our day ruined, because, you know, they're enlightening us. If we'd read what they've read, seen what they've seen, been we're they've been, then we'd know the truth about life too, that it's all rather boggy and sad, and knowing the truth, well, that's the most important thing of all.
Of course, their other annoying assumption is that we haven't read what we ought to have read, haven't seen what needs to be seen, haven't gone where we should have gone, because, after all, if we had, then we wouldn't need them to enlighten us, would we? The only other conclusion they can draw is that if we have read what we ought to have read, seen what needs to be seen, gone where we should have gone, and still don't think what they think about it, then we must be stupid.
Blogtopia, East and West, is filled with Eeyores, and I can be one of them some days.
(Blogtopia TM Skippy.)
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