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The Occupy Wall Street demonstrations are getting a little old. Not because they’re “unjustified” or even “wrong,” but because they express a general dissatisfaction, but don’t seem to have specific demands. It’s as if Howard Beale, the fictional “mad prophet of the airwaves” in the A..D. 1976 movie “Network” finally got the millions of people in his audience to shout “I’m mad as Hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” Great! You’re all pissed off. But what, exactly, do you want? What do you propose?
You can’t bitch and bitch and beat on drums for weeks or months without saying what you want, unless your only objective is to “act out” and get attention. Without an organized voice or at least a clear statement of objectives, the “Occupy” movement (which I enjoy) is like living with a woman who’s in an endless state of PMS. She’s constantly bitching and nothing can satisfy her.
You may love her, but after a while all that bitching gets old.
