Just how bitter are you?: The quiz

Clearly, I had too much time on my hands last week because I spent the better part of the week on Facebook, playing Scrabulous (which kind of goes without saying) and Superpokin' everyone (again, without saying), but also forming an official Facebook group dedicated to "celebrating Bitter Pride Week."

As you may know, especially if you live in the United States and are generally considered a sentient being by others, U.S. senator, presidential candidate, and all-around great speechmaker Barack Obama made what some consider to be a serious gaffe on the campaign trail when he said that small-town Americans, specifically Pennsylvanians, were cynical and bitter and, as a result, "They cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations" (quoted from the Meet the Press transcript, 13 April 2008).

Many in the U.S. were shocked and angered by his statement, and someone whose family earned more than $109 million over the last few years even claimed that the statement indicated he was an elitist who condescended to the country--just not as well as she did.

In fact, his statement made some of us so angry, we prayed to God for even more weapons for our home arsenals.

For the record, yours truly did not join in the prayer group nor the arms build-up. In fact, after being initially a little shocked myself by the impoliteness of the statement--made in front of an audience in America's smuggest city, San Francisco no less (must give credit where credit is due--it's neck and neck with Seattle at this point)--I've come to realize the following:

a) Obama's probably not wrong, although perhaps he should have thought a bit harder before he spoke

b) Nobody in this country appreciates honesty, even if honesty is limited to one population group (that is to say, I would argue that all of us--except those perhaps in the $100 million income club, and even then--might be considered bitter regardless of geographic location or lifestyle choice)

c) I really could care less about this "controversy," which strikes me as just another tempest in a teapot

Never mind that the teapot is cracked and seriously leaking--by all means, let's not hurt the teapot's feelings! Instead, let's shake the teapot around and toss it back and forth like a football. Then let's look the teapot in the eye and tell it how it should be feeling about what one of the brewmaster's said about it. "You're feeling queasy from being thrown around by him, aren't you? And bitter--he brewed you too long!"

Ayayay. It's so nice to know that with two wars under our belt, $3.51 per gallon gas in our tanks, and our homes on the foreclosure block, we can focus on the big issues--like America's wittle feewings.

After a few days of this playing out in the media before the April 22nd Pennsylvania Democratic Primary, I was feeling quite bitter myself. (In fact, I'm constantly puzzled how you can live in this country and not be bitter about the way things have gone the last 30 years, but that's another diatribe for another day.) And punchy, 'cause that's what happens to me when social and political absurdity reaches new heights, depths, and breadths.

So in tribute to the silliness (mine as well as that of the collective we call the United States of America), I formed a group in Facebook to commemorate Bitter Pride Week. I advertised it like so:

If you feel especially bitter over anything at all--the current political situation, the price of gas, the tanking economy, the interrupted TV season, the Stanley Cup play-offs (applies to Ottawa Senators' fans only), the new Madonna single, the new Madonna video, your continual losses at Scrabulous, whatever!--join us in commemorating what is sure to become an annual, even daily, event--especially if things go very badly at election time in November.

Hey, what can I say? Stuff like this and making my own mix CDs keeps me entertained and reasonably sane.

I had delusions that it might keep others entertained as well, that the group would go viral in Facebook and attract hundreds of thousands of members. But by week's end, I had 10 members, all but one of them known to me. Alas and, well, I lack, apparently.

So I decided to up the ante a bit and use Facebook's Quiz Creator to develop a questionnaire entitled "Just How Bitter Are You?" in order to gauge the mood of the country (yes, that's right, it was a public service), to add a new social networking ability to my professional skill set (hey, lookit! I can create quizzes in Facebook, which [sotto voce] have no useful application to my job), and . . . to avoid cleaning the bathroom, going through several boxes of files, and editing some meeting minutes, which should have more of a priority, but, which, quel surprise, were not. (Altruism may not be dead but it has been kicked in the balls repeatedly and isn't feeling so good.)

A good idea, and a fun one, but one that has yet to enlist Quiz Creator's cooperation. I could enter my questions, lists the choices for answers, even complete the computations for determining results and, thus, levels of bitterness.

However, for the life of me, I couldn't share any of this with anyone else in my little group or the world at large. I tried at least six times to enter the questions and answers but only could see the questions. I deleted the quiz and the application to start all over, and yet, whenever I went to create a new quiz, the old one was still there, and the new quiz didn't work any better than the old one.

Which, naturally, made me even more bitter.

So in the spirit of eternal embitterment and multiple choice, I'll now share with the world at large (or at least the handful who read this blog) Kitty Kurmudgeon's First Quiz, "Just How Bitter Are You?"

Take a few moments to discover your true, bitter self. (See, it really is a public service after all.) Then once you know, take the day off from work, disconnect the phone, get yourself a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and proceed to watch back-to-back episodes of Ellen DeGeneres and Oprah, all in the vain hope to make your soul smoother and less crunchy.

And don't forget to vote on Tuesday.

* * *

The quiz

Question 1: You think children are . . .

a) Our future
b) Better seen and not heard
c) An unfortunate necessity for the propagation of the race
d) Consumers--small, whiny consumers, but with less disposable income than their parents
e) Delicious with fava beans and a nice Chianti

Question 2: Your boss would describe you as . . .

a) A model employee
b) Something of a curmudgeon, but ultimately harmless
c) Having the union rep on speed dial--and you with a hair trigger no less
d) A horse's ass
e) A horse's asshole

Question 3: The Reverend Jeremiah Wright sounds like . . .

a) He needs a hug
b) A bit of a hothead but not without his valid points
c) Your soulmate
d) You
e) Someone you could give tips to on how to tick off white people

Question 4: George Bush is . . .

a) The president of the United States
b) The worst president of the United States
c) The worst organism in the universe
d) Dick Cheney's right-hand man
e) Dick Cheney's back-door man

Question 5: Your vote in the 2008 U.S. election will . . .

a) Make a difference!
b) Likely be erased by accident by a Diebold voting machine
c) Likely be erased on purpose by a Diebold voting machine
d) Be recorded by a Diebold voting machine--early and often--but for the candidate you voted against
e) Not be recorded--you will have staged a successful coup and imposed martial law long before election day

Question 6: The phrase "the bitterest pill" refers to . . .

a) A really great punk tune by The Jam, circa 1978
b) A medication that you need to survive but that isn't covered by your healthcare plan
c) Healthcare plan? What healthcare plan?
d) What you hope is the taste of Viagra as compared with an as-yet-to-be-invented cure for cancer, Alzheimer's, AIDS . . .
e) Something you plan to crush into a fine powder and feed to your enemies next time you have them over for dinner

Question 7: Guns . . .

a) Are incompatible with contemporary civilization
b) Provide tenuous if false hope in a frightening world
c) Are not a substitute for a small penis
d) Nor is a motorcycle
e) Will have to be pried from your cold, dead hands after you stage a July 4th reenactment of Ruby Ridge in your gated community

Question 8: Suicide is . . .

a) A sad, sad event for everyone
b) Tragic but in some cases an understandable reaction to the world in which we live
c) Pointless--you secretly suspect that death offers no escape from the misery of existence
d) Ridiculous--you prefer to keep on living to piss off your enemies
e) Annoying--paperwork, so much paperwork

Question 9: The Clintons' marriage . . .

a) Shows strength, commitment, and, most of all, love
b) Was once strong but now is more of a professional relationship
c) Has been primarily a professional relationship from the start
d) Causes you to support gay marriage because, hey, why should heterosexuals be the only miserable ones?
e) Is actually a well-staged, well-funded public theater performance of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Question 10: Jesus . . .

a) Loves you, yes you know, for the Bible tells you so
b) Is your homeboy
c) Is the generic name George Bush uses for all his ranch hands, even if they're actually named Ricardo, Bob, or Helmut
d) Got out while the getting was good
e) Can't save you now


* * *

Scoring

If you chose mostly a's for your answers, you are . . . beloved children's literary character Anne of Green Gables!

You're an innocent, a veritable babe in the woods! Some people will carp about your goody-two-shoe-i-ness and try to take advantage of you, but your sweet nature and wholesome spirit will prevail!

You are prone to flights of fancy and have unmanageable hair, but, otherwise, are a lovely soul.

Too bad your sphere of influence only extends over a small corner of Prince Edward Island, circa 1908.

Oh, and you're Canadian. And you're fictional.

If you chose mostly b's on the quiz, you are . . . early 20th-century journalist H. L. Mencken!

Oh you not-so-lovable curmudgeon!

In theory, you can be sweet (that is to say, you're not biologically incapable of it), but more often than not, you're just tart, acidic, sour, lemony, and, well, bitter. You're from Baltimore, hon, so what can we expect?

While you're an intelligent entity, you're also too full of yourself and convinced of your own superiority. Although you decry the privileges of elites, you kinda see yourself as a member of that very same special club. (By the way, the other members call themselves "snobs.")

Lucky for us no one other than TV commentators on MSNBC bothers to quote you anymore.

If you chose mostly c's on the quiz, you are . . . deposed Iraqi president Saddam Hussein!

Saddam, we hardly knew ye!

In retrospect, you don't seem half as bad as you did when you were teasing everyone with your (alleged) nuclear arsenal, gassing your Kurdish citizens, and twiddling your Snidely Whiplash mustache. Still, you might want to ixnay on the itternessbay before someone invades your country on a whim.

However, if that comes to pass, you will indeed have the last (bitter) laugh.

Unfortunately, that laugh will be from the grave.

If you chose mostly d's on the quiz, you are . . . Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez!

Like Maxwell House coffee, you're bitter to the last drop.

You smell sulfur everywhere you go--little do you realize it's emanating from you! We're sorry to report that your bitterness has started to rot you from the inside. As a consequence, you've gone whiffy.

Nonetheless, your bitterness is so over the top as to have a quirky, belligerent charm--like that of lop-eared pit bull pausing in the middle of a vicious dogfight to lick itself.

But there's still hope for you! Just dial back the rhetoric a little and maybe your country won't be bombed until after gas reaches $4.00 a gallon.

That sound you hear, by this way, is a clock ticking . . .

If you chose mostly e's as your answers, you are . . . Vice President Dick Cheney!

Congratulations! You've just bought a luxury McMansion near the Lake of Fire overlooking the 18th hole of the Circle of Hell Country Club! You've redlined Satan and changed the passcode for the entry to your gated community, so now he'll never get back in. Which is OK by you--you never much liked your kids anyway.

As a consequence, we have no advice for you--you're too far gone. All we can do is pull out our grandmother's crucifix from our flak jacket and slowly back out of the room while you feast on the blood of newborns, live chickens, and your political opponents' newborns and live chickens.

* * *

Ah, I slay me, don't I?

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the goofiness, savored the bile, and will remember to vote for change (a change in direction, a change of scenery, a change of underwear . . .) this year.

'Cause, folks, you think I'm bitter now . . .