I Am Outraged

Let me jump to the point: I am concerned that we, as a people, are drowning in an epidemic of outrage. Maybe it's not as apparently dangerous as the swine flu, but it is far more virulent and certainly more contagious. It seems that virtually everyone is "outraged" about something or another. We appear to seek out reasons to feel offended, flipping it on as effortlessly as we turn on the hallway light. I am saddened that we are becoming humorless and without joy.

I was prompted into this observation because recently I wrote what I thought was a playful look at fried foods available to me on a trip to New Orleans. I admit to taking license with the details; yet overall, the premise was true: due to the preponderance of deep fried options, I find it harder to stick to my diet in the South. One might even consider it a compliment to southern cuisine. One might, yet, that is not how it was taken. I recently made the mistake of wading into the cesspool of on-line comments posted by some readers. "Outraged" was the main entrée on the menu of insults.

One person pronounced, "The South won't miss your rude and snotty little yankee-on-a-diet attitude," wondering if I was "raised by salad eating wolves," (Huh?) and concluding, "You're real lucky none of those Good Ole Southern Boys heard your pansy **** complaining ... or they would have schooled you on proper etiquette in the Deep South." Ouch. "Bitter, table for one please."

Someone else was enraged I was bringing my "ugly American" attitude where it didn't belong. Isn't New Orleans part of America? I don't know whether to be insulted or confused.

Sussing out a new column, I searched the internet for, "I am outraged." Presented with over one million listings; I entered a virtual culture of enraged, upset, venomous folk; ready to jump onto the seeing red bandwagon at the drop of a hat. Outrage boiled over because of the approval of an artificial sweetener by the FDA. Indignation was rampant because a baseball player opted for elbow surgery. There was high dudgeon because Queen Frostine, a character in the game Candyland, had been demoted to Princess. So distressed was he by such discrimination, that he made a solemn pledge to never again buy another game from the manufacturer, and was arranging a boycott. All is far from sweet in Candyland.

People, please, can we take a breath? Let's slow down long enough to step back from the brink and move distant from the precipice of righteous anger. Let's put the "go-ahead-cross-this-line" bravado on the back burner long enough to hear what someone has to say before we puff up, poke our finger in his chest, and give him the piece of mind we think he deserves?

Sure, there are concerns a plenty; enough to last for generations. We face a heating environment, a teetering economic platform, and a divided political system. There are injustices galore on which we can focus. And maybe that's the reason we're so easily thrown into a tizzy at the slightest affront. However, do we have to react like moths to light with "outrage?" How helpful or pleasant is it to live in a 24-hour state of hyper-tension, tight jaws, and clenched fists?

Maybe - just a thought here - we could try smiling quicker, listening longer, and thinking deeper. It might not help, but it sure couldn't hurt. Of course, if you disagree, I'm sure I'll get outraged letters.