Whiny Boy: Behind the Music

Since I've dubbed my mindless meanderings "The Whiny Boy Chronicles" I suppose it's only fair I give some insight into why I chose that name.

In all the years I’ve been taking in oxygen and dispensing carbon dioxide on this conglomeration of water and rock we call Earth, I’ve been searching endlessly for that one definition that would affirm my existence. For the better part of three decades that search came up empty.

No stone or new leaf went unturned and yet I sailed along still trying to discover my place in humankind, not to mention where I belonged even in my own family. While I do understand the whole husband and father thing, and son and brother thing, I still longed to know the answer to the question, "Who am I?"

Then a moment of enlightenment emerged when I least expected it and I realized that men have kept one unalienable right through famine, plague, war, natural disaster and, worse yet, having our favorite sports team sucking the hind nipple of a mangy sow year after year. (For those of you that don’t know what that means, find someone country, and they’ll clue you in.)

That right is the ability to whine and whine quite well, thank you very much.

My moment of clarity in all this came early in my marriage when I was going through my normal “my life sucks” routine at a time when I longed to belong. Shortly after one of these “woe is me” conniptions, probably triggered by my beloved Minnesota Vikings falling short of reaching my unrealistic expectations yet again, my significant other, perhaps fed up with my attitude, exclaimed, “You’re such a WHINY BOY!”

And then it sunk in.

It was at that moment I had discovered the true definition of myself, most of my male contemporaries and probably millions of others, who eat, sleep, breathe and possess male body parts in not only this great country of ours but in all corners of the world.

Some so-called experts claim men are bred to be hunters and gatherers, but as I examined my own life and of those around me, I became convinced that it was probably a better than even money chance that men weren’t always that way.

It’s becoming increasingly clear that it more than likely was woman who coerced man to go out and hunt and gather so they could get his lazy, smelly and whining ass out of the cave or hut or whatever domicile was chic' at the time. Since then, being dubbed as hunters and gatherers sounded way cooler than our original title -- unmotivated, odiferous and nagging, so the title has stuck.

Besides, if we were bred to be hunters and gatherers, then why the hell do we have to wear bright orange when were are out tracking down pheasants, deer, grouse or whatever wild game is in season? For God’s sake, if we were such noble hunters and gatherers you’d think we could tell the difference between the hide of animal or the feathers of a bird and the flesh of a human being by now.

My other theories on mankind, which have come to the forefront since my mind was opened to the reality that Whiny Boy exists, probably aren’t very popular, but, damn it, they should be!
I wouldn’t be shocked someday to learn that evolution is a myth probably created by some boisterous men too lazy to keep holy the Sabbath, and that procreation was developed by a conglomeration of opinionated, butt-ugly guys ticked off for their lack of success with the ladies and since they couldn’t get any no one else!

I realize both are far fetched and one probably would be considered blasphemous by some, but it wouldn’t be a bit surprising if there’s some truth to both theories. After all, Whiny Boy has had a major impact on life-changing, historical events ever since he started walking upright.

Fire?

It was more than likely created by a caveman fed up with eating cold food yet again. One day he couldn’t take it anymore and hurled his frozen platypus nuggets against a rock in a hissy fit and the ensuing sparks ignited his wife’s thatch dress.

The wheel?

Probably carved by a man too sick and tired of seeing his peers becoming fecal matter for a variety of dinosaurs on their way to or from the weekly Bedrock Hold ‘Em poker game and leaving the stone table short a player or two.

Whining is the very essence that can drive men to great things, but more often than not it led to nothing more than underachievement. It’s those that harness the ability to whine and use it to his advantage that we all strive to be or whine when we fail to make it to that level.

Collectively, we accomplish nothing because we can’t agree on anything. Individually we can’t accomplish anything because there’s no one to whine to about what we’ve done.

After my stunning conclusion that Whiny Boy exists, it was through more years of human observation and careful analysis that I realized I am not alone, but I am perhaps the only one aware.

Civilizations will come and go as often as one-hit wonders on the Top 40 charts, but Whiny Boy lives on for ever.