CARE FOR SOME CHEESE WITH THAT WHINE?

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Before I get started, I would like to state that I love America, and I believe it is the greatest country the world has ever known, so don’t come burn down my house after you read this column.

That said, I have to ask you this question, "In the history of the world, has there ever been a bigger bunch of whiners than Americans?" (I will pause to allow time for you to realize this is a rhetorical question.)

I started thinking about this the other day when my wife and I were sitting down to do the bills. Actually, I sat down with the bills, our checkbook and a calculator, and my wife flitted about the table nervously, wringing her hands, looking over my shoulder to sneak peeks at the balance, saying things like, "Did you pay the Visa bill? What about the car insurance? And the mortgage? Oh, no! The mortgage! We’ve gotta pay the mortage! Oh, nevermind. It’s too late. I’ll just start selling everything in preparation for our move to that box behind the liquor store, where we will use Crown Royal sacks for pillows."

When my wife goes into Bill Paying Panic Mode, I do the sensible thing. I have an entire bottle of Scotch. No, kidding, of course. I explain to my wife that all of the bills are taken care of, and if she wants me to keep my hair attached to my head, she will retreat to the living room to watch television, lest I pull it straight from my scalp.

Anyway, I came across my power bill. I looked at my bill, and then looked a second time, because I didn’t know they had begun charging me by the year. Or, perhaps they had grouped my neighbors’ bills on mine, and it was our job to split it up, kind of like in a restaurant with parties of eight or more. After all, there are about a dozen houses on my street, so this made perfect sense. While checking to see if a 15% gratuity had been added, I was horrified to learn that the amount due was all me for one month. (So much for that little plan of collecting money from my neighbors. I guess I’ll have to think of another way.)

In a single month, we had spent more money on electricity than the gross national of some small countries. And why did we do this? Because it was summer, and this summer’s average temperature hovered around the 340 degree mark. And rather than have to wait 10-15 minutes after we got home for the house to cool down, we cranked our air conditioner nonstop for several months, making the inside temperature cool and pleasant. By "cool and pleasant" I mean suitable for ice fishing.

And the reason we kept our air conditioner set on Frigidaire? Because otherwise we would have whined and complained like nobody’s business. All day long you would have heard, "It’s sooooo hot" and "I can’t take the heat any more" and "The heat has overtaken my soul, and I cannot be held accountable for my actions. Now hand me the chainsaw."

You wouldn’t hear that kind of complaining in other countries, no siree. Many other countries are primarily desert, and they don’t even know what air conditioning is. But do they complain? No idea. Never talked to someone from the Sudan. And even if I did, fat chance I would understand their language.

But you get my drift. America is the only country in the world where evening newscasts have to ask residents to keep their thermostats set at 75-78 degrees so as not to cause power failures. And we whine about it. "But 78 is still kinda hot. Can I please put it back to 34?"

To further illustrate my point that Americans, when it comes to issues of comfort, are the biggest pansies this side of Germany, take a look at the cooling systems of cars. My car is of the Japanese variety, meaning it gets about 400 miles to gallon. My wife’s car is of hardy American stock, which means she may pull out of the driveway and need to refuel. However, if you crank my car’s air conditioner, your car may cool down around the halfway point of your trip, assuming you are driving to Venus. My wife’s car, on the other hand, can be used to store meat after about six seconds of cranking the AC. If there’s one thing we know, it’s how to keep cool. If there’s a second thing we know, it’s how to maintain the gas efficiency of an ocean liner.

There are countless other petty things we complain about -- poor cell phone reception, one of your 238 cable channels is fuzzy, the voices I constantly here that tell me to burn things -- but I won’t get into them. The list is just sooooo long, and I’m getting soooo tired. And it’s just sooooo hot in here.