My Hero
There are some commercials running on the TV that make me sick. No, I’m not talking about the one for the “Aussie Makeover“; it’s for bariatric surgery. The announcer boldly (stupidly) calls people who can’t lose weight on their own “heroes” for getting staples and lap bands. The truth of this is that they still have to put down the fudgecicles, fried chicken and corn dogs. There is nothing heroic about needing or getting help when it comes to health or anything else. Would they call them heroes if they asked for a ride? Oh look, there’s a hitchhiker – what a hero!
Frankly calling people heroes when they’ve done nothing heroic at all diminishes that title for people who are real heroes. Without getting too far afield, let’s talk about 9/11. Some people called the employees who went to work heroes. Hell, what’s heroic about eating a donut and hanging out by the water cooler talking about last night’s Apprentice? Nothing. The heroes were the ones who went into burning, crumbling buildings to try to save lives. Let’s not call someone a hero unless they did something for real, Okay?
