Kathy Griffin, Hillary Clinton, and Colin Kaepernick go around in despair about how mean the world is to them, how they're getting cheated out of something rightfully theirs, how things just shouldn't be like this.

Hatred figures prominently in their respective worldviews.  Griffin hates Donald Trump.  Hillary hates deplorables and Jim Comey and the Russians and men and self-hating women.  Oh, and Bernie.  And Donna.  Kaep hates America, or anyway America's cops.

All three did this to themselves, but none sees any connection between choices made and present predicament.  Now they make themselves pitiful, irritating, and disgusting by whining, crying, complaining, ranting, and blaming.

Griffin was the real dumb one.  Kaep's a millionaire even if he did kick away another season's work, and Hillary's got a tidy nest egg up there in Chappaqua, but Kathy didn't look far enough down the road before taking this wrong turn.

America responds to this trio with eye-rolling.  And deep sighs.  And looking away.  And channel-changing.  Professional victims are nobody's idea of achievers, heroes, models for kids, or fun company on a desert island.

Look at it this way, guys: you coulda been in Hollywood getting it from Harv and Kev and that bunch.  Then you could have laid it on really thick.  True, it's hard to see how, but you would have thought of something.

Truth is, you all had it pretty good.  You had it real good.  But you couldn't accept that.  You kept pushing for more.  Idolization or headlines or something.  You never figured out how to enjoy what you had and pocket your winnings.

Three Fausts looking for the ultimate high.  My, my.