KISSASS In Action: Snowflakes In A Van

Recently I linked to an article that defined KISSASS:

…if you’re not a member of the professional class, the key to getting your personal essays published in prominent publications is KISSASS—Keep It Short, Sad, And Simple, Stupid.”

I’ve stumbled across a gold plated example. Two broke snowflakes went on a van trip. As required by the KISSASS principle, one of them writes about it as if he’d been on the Bataan Death March. Even the title is ridiculous. We Tried to Do Vanlife Right. It Broke Us Down wallows in victimhood.

I’m fisking bits which caught my eye. Here’s the opening paragraph:

“A few hours after I bought a 1995 Ford E-350 Econoline van for $2,000 in the fall of 2017, the ABS light lit up on the dashboard. That night, I had a dream: My fiancée, Rachel, and I were driving downhill on a steep, winding road when the brakes went out. As we were plunging to our deaths over a cliff, I stared into her eyes and thought, I failed you.”

Wow! A cheap 12 year old Econoline has a lit idiot light on the dash? That’s never happened in the history of mechanics. It’s the end of the goddamn world!

Faced with this totally unsolvable situation, he has nightmares. Way to man up Lancelot! Chivalrously facing the challenges of the world; all for your sweetie. He handled it so well. Tearing up and freaking out is definitely the stud muffin way.

The KISSASS protocol has this:

“If you read about a working stiff in the pages of the New York Times, you’re almost certain to find it a downbeat experience. “

Does our van based protagonist go downbeat on America? Hell yes! Ironically he can’t find much suffering in person. Failing to find Deplorables knife fighting for turnips on dirt roads in Iowa, he refers to other writers’ books; which he didn’t finish(!). He dredges from imagination this cheerful description:

“…the loneliness, the long-drive blues, the scenes of rural emptiness, the despair and squalor of the country’s poor, the empty spaces that made up most of the adventure and left plenty of room for breakdowns of many kinds.”

Driving a van across America is the same as Frodo carrying the one ring to Modor. Our hero’s suffering is unbearable.

“We rode on, but my nerves were shot. I couldn’t seem to shake the little voice in my head that kicked in every day when I unchocked the wheels and turned the keys in the starter: If this van breaks down, you’re fucked.”

I’ve been there and done that… in a van no less. It’s called being poor. Being poor sucks. The solution is to get a job. Then, maybe, a better car.

Of course, these two weren’t exactly rock solid to start with:

“…anti-seizure medications finally eased the pain, but a quick Google search revealed that they could have scary side effects on one’s mental state.”

That sucks. It’s also another of life’s lessons. If you want to have an adventure you’ve got to be physically and mentally fit enough to be an adventurer. If you can’t do it, don’t.

Maybe TV on the couch is as far as Captain Overwrought is gonna’ go. Not everyone is cut out to see the world. Some aren’t cut out to leave their parents. (The author was living in his parent’s house before and after the trip.)

So where’d this genius get his idea that the nomad life was cheap, easy, and blissful?

“The Instagram version implies that the only side effect of #vanlife is contentment. You want to live your dream of freedom and nomadism? Do it in your van, touched only by sunshine and perfect vistas.”

No shit? Instagram isn’t a unbiased resource for real world information? Are you sure? What about the Easter Bunny? That’s still real isn’t it?

“Here’s what living out of a van was: a massive stretch of raw adventure and also an earthquake, destabilizing my life, showing me I didn’t really know all that much about risk, privilege, happiness, failure, and my own mental state. Rachel and I were two tectonic plates, shearing and buckling and melding together under the pressure. When it was all over, I got to see what had crumbled—and what hadn’t. That was vanlife’s gift to me.”

Christ on a cracker. He called that one! He knew jack shit. He wasn’t just new to life; he was a hatchling who fell out of the nest. Dude took on an easy challenge. He wandered around a large peaceful rich safe society. He saw some of the best roads and cheapest gas on planet earth. This was his Waterloo? That’s what happens when you hit chronological adulthood without every once encountering/overcoming adversity!

Lord help him; he needs to grow a pair.

A.C.

P.S. Lest you think I’m callous, I’ve been there. I’ve done exactly what initiated Captain Overwrought’s navel gazing. He’s not the first dude to live in a rustbucket. He won’t be the last. It has been a cliche since Okies fled the dustbowl. Here’s the summary: it sucks. See what I did there? I summed it up in two words. It. Sucks. That’s OK. Unlike Captain Overwrought, I nutted up and adapted. I got a job and upgraded through a string of gradually less shitty vehicles; culminating in my current vehicle “The Death Wobble Express”. I have a much higher budget because I friggin’ earned it. It still sucks sometimes. Sometimes leaving the couch sucks. So what?