There’s a wonderful line about the pride of misery, and it comes from the fictional mayor of New York in the movie, “Ghostbusters 2.”
“Being miserable and treating other people like dirt is every New Yorker's God-given right.”
The act of grumpiness is enticing because it’s easy. The lazy man may cast off the burdens of social responsibility and good-neighborliness to take up a far less enriching but nonetheless satisfying cause: the wholesale drowning of society’s good works in a quagmire of his own making.
Rather than debate the merits of an issue, for example, one can lob insults and non sequiturs that show “He Who Shouts Loudest Shouts Last.”
True friendliness — the outgoing, unexpected kind of good deeds you never see coming — is a yoke few undertake when the ropes of bad manners are so tempting and rampant.
Christina Novak of Burbank found this is no burden, but an entirely freeing experience lifting emotional weights she never realized were there.