The Great Ripoff

by Gene Shelburne

The day after Thanksgiving last year my whole clan got into the act stringing cords and lights all over our lot, excitedly decorating our new home for our first Christmas there.

Well after dark the last strand of red lights was staked out. In less than twelve hours the local hooligans had already hit. Thirteen sockets on the driveway’s edge gaped empty in the early morning light.

The thieves stole more than bulbs, I soon found out. They stole our sense of festive fun and left in its place disgust and outrage. At least for the early hours of that morning, the grinches stole our Christmas.

But I quickly got over my mad. Sad to say, my offended feelings were soothed by the balm of my neighbors’ woes.

Before noon that day I spoke to a man whose garage had been burgled the night before. Almost two thousand dollars worth of his fine hand tools were missing. They were not insured.

Later in the day I learned that another friend had been relieved of his wallet at knifepoint. He lost his credit cards, driver’s license, and more pictures of Andrew Jackson than he cared to talk about.

As I heard these tales, my own loss of three bucks worth of colored light bulbs took on a new perspective. But I still felt ripped off.

In the blank marked “Occupation” an unnerving number of Americans if they were honest would have to write “Thief.” They make their living stealing.

But the biggest ripoff in this present age is not our property. It’s our propriety.

A whole generation has been robbed of their grandfather’s values. An age of unbelief has filched their faith. A milieu of cynicism has purloined their ethics. And they go blissfully about their business, not even knowing they’ve been mugged.