"I do not believe in excuses. I believe in hard work as the prime solvent of life's problems." - J.C. Penny

Note to her husband left on the fridge: "Honey, in the pantry is a bag of potatoes. Peel half of them and set them on the stove to boil. 

USAToday had a headline that read, "What do men get that women don't?" I didn't click through, but did think of things that should be on that list.

• Men get that a football game trumps anything on HGTV.
• Men get that the best food is eaten with your hands, not silverware. 
• Men get that a movie's rating rises in direct proportion to the number of fast cars and fist fights. Bonus points are given if those fast cars crash and lost if there's music anywhere that isn't Bruce Springsteen. 

We need an International Men's Day, with a Day Without Men component. Or maybe we should be more specific: International White Men's Day, and all Caucasian men stay home. We watch football, eat ribs, and after the game watch Fast and Furious Frenzy IV. 

Seriously, I'm about fed up with our victim culture. Way too much whining based on the presumption that life should be fair. Pull up your big boy/girl/LGBTQ/whatever pants and fight back. Don't like the way you're treated? Prove us wrong by outdoing us. 

At our Tuesday evening small group we do this thing where each week one person gives their personal history with a focus on their heilsgeschichte - their salvation history. I'm the last one and I go next week. I've thought about what I should include based on the pattern that's been set and the things I think are central to my story.

One of those core elements is my self-perception until I was about 20 years old. I was a total wimp, in part because I was physically small, extremely uncoordinated, and thanks to the way the Seattle School district did it, always the youngest in my class. That combination doesn't bode well for social development, especially from about grades 5 to 9. I was lowest on the totem pole and my ideal day was getting to and home from school without getting shoved, hit, tripped, or otherwise victimized. That ideal day happened, but not often. Note: it didn't help that I played the cello. 

I was the stereotypical loser, weenie, wuss. I got bad grades, the self-fulfilling prophecy dynamic in action; kids who see them selves as losers don't push for success in any venue. I only spoke when spoken to and avoided eye contact. 

The transition to the charismatic, confident, suave person I am now is the story of God's grace and intervention. (sarcasm) 

So, do you think I have a soft spot in my heart for the kid who is what I was? For the beat down person at any age who's full of unrealized potential that would emerge if only someone gave them guidance and encouragement, telling them, "I believe in you!"? Sympathetic to the Stop Bullying movemenet?

Nope. Nada.

I look back and realize most of my hurt was the product of my own extreme submissiveness. I was my own worst enemy and more the victim of my own wussness than any bully's fists. I emerged from that world of weenie because I finally took some risks, actions that came through a set of close-in-time events that Somebody laid before me, and that I finally decided to step into, not away from. No amount of, "you can do this" would have made a bit of difference. I know that because several people tried.

I've got this story I'll tell sometime about my uncle offering me a not-insubstantial amount of money to take a girl on a date. I knew even while he was making the offer I'd never take him up on it. I was a loser because I would rather have been a loser than risk actually losing by giving life a go. 

So let's dump all of this "Day without ____" nonsense. No whining! If you're downtrodden either take action or shut up. Go into the boss and demand equal pay. If you don't get it go somewhere else. And if that's not possible work your butt off and prove yourself more valuable than everyone else on the premises. Us patting the back of your hand is an insult to everyone who's done that, who took risks, has the bruises to show for it, and got up off the ground 16 times to prove it could be done even against the odds. 

Just maybe you'll do all of that and STILL come out the loser, getting the short end of the stick. 

Welcome to life.

Fact is, I still can't hit a baseball, sink a basket from right beneath the hoop, or dance a lick. I'm always going to be skinny and have an adam's apple almost as big as my nose. But I CAN build a truck a bolt at a time, swing a decent hammer, and (most of the time) preach a decent sermon. I can live with that combination. I've played on the church softball team and been the guy none of us wanted to be at the plate with two outs. My choice. The other option: cheer from the bench. I decided I wanted to play more than I wanted to cheer, knowing what came with it.

Suck It Up. 

You don't get a special day, you don't get laws to protect you from a world that's always going to be unfair, and you don't get sympathy from me. 

You DO get a chance to work your butt off, get up and try again, and find what works for you. If nothing does, be tough enough to deal with it and find the joy in grounding out to the second baseman because you got to hang out with guys who are going for hand-held food after the game.