Yesterday, the Panthers defeated the Seattle Seahawks and advanced to the NFC championship game. I work in a restaurant with a bar that airs the Panthers' game every Sunday. Most of the time, the guests who come in to watch the game are identical. They have a southern accent, wear a Newton, Kuechly, or Olson jersey, and get so drunk they can hardly stand by the end of the game. They cheer quite loudly when Carolina scores, completes a pass, or moves the ball three inches up the field. And they get pissed when the opposition scores, completes a pass, or moves the ball three inches down the field. They can tell you almost anything you'd want to know about the Panthers, and they lead — typically — happy lives.
But every once in a Carolina black and blue moon a guest comes in who breaks this mold. They have a southern accent. They get so drunk they can hardly stand by the end of the game. But they don't wear a Panthers jersey. Instead, they represent which ever team Carolina is playing. In this case, Seattle. They cheer quite loudly when Seattle scores, completes a pass, or moves the ball three inches up the field. And they sit back in their chairs and sip their $4 Miller Lite pint every time Carolina scores, completes a pass, or moves the ball three inches down the field. They couldn't tell you the first thing about the Seahawks, besides they play in Seattle, and they lead — typically — unhappy lives.
Today, I got the chance to ask one of these paragons of opposition a simple question. Why? Why would you subject yourself to the ridicule of everyone else in this bar? Why can't you let people enjoy the happiness that comes from a corporate entity designed to represent you succeeding in what they get paid millions to do? Why would you pay four dollars for a pint of Miller Lite? As if I didn't already know the answer.
Last week, I went on an artificial journey to the center of my soul. It wasn't pleasant. I — quite literally — confronted my inner demons, among other things. But I did find the answer to a lot of questions. One of the questions being, "Why do I take joy in being a contrarian?" What about opposing the majority makes me happy? And the answer is simple. Laziness.
Being negative and opposing something everyone else likes is easy. When you like something, it's to be expected that you know something about it. When I say, "I'm a Panthers fan," it's likely I'll be challenged by other Panthers fans. Such challenges could be simple such as being asked what position Cam Newton plays, or they could be very difficult, such as telling them the date of every Panthers playoff win ever. Regardless, it is required that I know something about the Panthers or else I'm just a 'band-wagoner' who doesn't actually care about football (spoiler alert: I'm a band-wagoner who doesn't actually care about football). Acquiring knowledge takes work. And work is hard.
On the other hand, not liking something is incredibly easy. When you don't like something, most people don't expect you to know anything about it. In fact, most people don't care how much you don't know about the thing you don't like because they're too busy calling you a 'Seahawks-loving little b*tch'. Ignorance takes no work at all. And work is hard.
So what is to be said about people who don't like anything? The people who will take a dump on anything you claim to enjoy because it's not actually that great. Well, it's simple. They're lazy and don't have a personality. Because a personality requires interests. And interests require knowledge. And acquiring knowledge takes work. And work is hard.
