Can’t Poop? Dial 911. Bloody Nose? Call the Cops.

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Being the nation of weaklings that we are, 911 has become the indispensable resource. We all know, at least to some extent, how abused the 911 system is by cowardly, dependent, wuss Americans who no longer have the ability to adapt to and tackle the most elementary predicaments. Dial 911 has become the surrogate parent for adults, just as the state intended.

I live in a major, urban area and I have a friend who is a paramedic. The stories she tells of her daily exploits in the capacity of doing her job is hardly unexpected, yet still shocking. She chose a vocation where she thought she could use her abilities to assist people in need, offer professional assistance, and bring some good to the people who need and deserve it. However, she has come to detest her job, at times, because her profession, for the most part, is filled with days of glorified babysitting; entertaining bored people who like to play sick to garner attention; transporting obese diabetics to/from costly medical care; and playing caretaker for the masses who can’t care for themselves at the most basic human level.

She notes that many of the patients she deals with have been saddled with the great, American pastime of chronic constipation, thanks to their conformity with the Standard American Industrial Diet (food we haven’t evolved to consume). Constipation has become the norm for largely obese population she deals with on a daily basis. She had one call come in, fairly recently, where a man dialed 911 because he said “he couldn’t poop.” She was obligated to pick the man up and taxi him to the hospital where he’d receive the attention of a team of medical professionals and state medical benefits so he could …. poop.

She recently had a call that is also a normal occurrence – the domestic tussle where families no longer handle things on their own, but instead, they call out the cop brigade. She said a girl of 17 had punched her 14-year-old sister in the nose during a classic girlie skirmish, drawing drops of blood. The dependent, pantywaist parents, unable to cope, called the cops and the medical brigade. When my friend arrived, she said there were 4-5 cops, a few firemen, and her and her partner (paramedics). All of these overpaid, tax-feeding employees, with magnificent pensions waiting for them, descended upon a house in full state regalia, and they all tended to a girl who, as my friend said, had nothing wrong with her. The 17-year-old was put in handcuffs and hauled away in the back of the cop car. My friend said it was her protocol to take a look at the 17-year-old, as well, while they were on the scene, to make sure there were no injuries, and the cops hindered her ability to do that because the “dangerous criminal” was being kept behind the barricades with blinking lights.

It is the duty of the state to always feign crisis wherever possible so as to justify their existence and the employment of their multitude of divine agents who exist to protect us from annoyed sisters, unlicensed lemonade sellers, raw milk, unapproved advertising slogans, and the Muslims hiding in our closets. Thus, the state has fostered a dependency on itself, on the part of the masses, in order to warrant its immense growth and intrusive deployment. The state has created a need for the state by the masses who can no longer survive daily rituals, let alone modest abnormalities. The masses have been dumbed-down, made into milksops, and turned into yellow-bellied flakes by the paternal state that enslaves them.

This, I believe, is one of the major cultural challenges we face as we watch each successive generation become far more incapable than the previous generation due to the mass acceptance that we don’t own ourselves, and therefore we are not responsible for our own day-to-day welfare. It is those who own us who are responsible for us. Follow me on Twitter @karendecoster.

5:48 pm on August 1, 2011