Mr. Wright, I feel so sorry for you and the pain Mr. Horn has inflicted on you since he raised your country club dues (and the rec center is our country club) $40 a year for 13 years. Poor you.
I don’t know Mr. Horn. Don’t know you, either. Never met Horn. Wouldn’t recognize him in Starbucks if he spilled his vente latte on me, though I would probably remember him after that. Perhaps he poured his coffee on you?
But come on, Mr. Wright, your lament boiled down a $40 annual increase in country club dues over each of 13 years.
The triviality of your complaint (a $530 increase — forty bucks a year — for all we get through the rec center) is scarcely worth the paper it’s written on.
Your over-the-top lashing out strikes me as a pathetic, desperate cry for recognition. That’s why I feel sorry for anyone appearing to be so needy.
I’ll bet you’ve done something, sometime in your life not trivial, maybe even praise-worthy. Congratulations might even be in order for whatever it was.
Cling to that moment. Revel in it. Why demean yourself by stooping to a lamentation of such insignificance? Should you ever have something worthwhile to say, I encourage you to offer it, really.