The four most overused words in the English language are "I love you Greg." The next: "A cry for help."
Whenever someone does something stupid — whether it's exposing their genitals to parking attendants or having sex with a Chalupa — the experts call it "a cry for help." That's because a cry for help excuses the behavior and it allows wall-eyed weasels like Dr. Phil to make bank.
It's getting to the point that when you hear a real cry for help, you just giggle like a school girl.
Case in point: Takahiro Fujinuma, a lonely Japanese man who called directory assistance 10,000 times, pleading with the female operators not to hang up. He was arrested in Tokyo, for obstructing a business.
But here was a case where the cries for help were literally cries for help! And no one listened.
My only explanation for such callousness is that we've grown immune to real sorrow. Instead, we've focused our sympathies on people who don't need it — like depressed starlets, animals stuck in grates and, of course, Josh Groban.
Me? I prefer to focus on real cries for help. True, many of these cries come from my basement. But that's why I've invested $4,500 in high-performance, sound-absorbing thermal insulation. I suggest you do the same.
And if you disagree with me, then you're a probably a racist and worse than Hitler.