"I lost an Uncle in Korea and another in Viet Nam. Where are MY reparations? Who do I blame? Where should I set up my tent?"
I have posted this observation before, but it bears repeating.
Reading quite a bit of FReeper posts I notice a significant difference between the FReepers and those like our friend Cindy here. While a number of FReepers have their own histories (i.e., loss of a loved one, health/medical problems, even jail) they seem to move on, in some way, or maybe even grow from their experiences. They don't talk about it much, only in context of something else. (Slowly some FReepers' backgrounds became revealed.)
On the other hand, Cindy & her ilk (especially those on the DUmmie pages) seem to wear their histories on their sleeves. Everything with them is a psychodrama; the world is their stage, as Shakespeare might say, and they need to act out, for constant validation.
I find Cindy so damned irritating because she won't let go. She will not, cannot stop. Her initially justifiable grief has turned into a rambling, tedious novel, and she is the heroine. As if she were the only person on earth to ever lose a son. A sane, mature person would retreat into a more private moment.
Look at them on the street, in demonstrations. They wear bizarre outfits and masks. They take off their clothes.* They chant childish slogans, one more hateful and stupid than the next. They vie to be the biggest freaks and losers.
Obviously they do this to identify with each other and to reject civilized society. Even more obviously they are screaming for attention. I leave it to others to play shrink and figure out what stunts their lives and souls. I'm content to take them at their word. If they want to portray themselves as freaks, idiots, moonbats and filthy rabble, that's what they are.
(*I've collected a sizeable file of photos of groups of naked people doing weird things. The file is named "LIBERALS.")