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| Rob's Soapbox | ||
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Congratulations!
You have finally landed on the one page on this entire site (and on the entire internet for that matter) that is purely without bullshit... my soapbox page. There are a lot of times during our show that, whether it's because of time constraints and other obligations, I don't always get to address some issues that I feel don't get the attention they deserve. There are even more times when I just don't feel like waiting until the show the next day to get some things off my chest. Thus, I have started the "Rob's Soapbox" page. If you have clicked on this page looking for someone to coddle your fragile sense of self-esteem, or tell you what you want to hear or to reinforce your outdated world view, then exit this page right now and go somewhere else. If you are in search of the last forum for reason and common sense left in the world, then sit back, relax, and enjoy. I make only one promise with this soapbox page... if you read long enough and often enough, you will eventually be offended. So here's my latest soapbox. Listen up, 'cause you just might learn something... |
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September 7, 2007 My Unrealistic Expectation of America's Youth I had a catharsis recently upon arriving at a local golf course on a late summer Sunday morning. As I pulled into the parking lot in my still new and shiny 2007 Corvette Z06, along came a young man, between 16-18 years old, driving a golf cart which would be mine for the day. This, by the way, is in itself, a lost art. Many golf courses now allow their paying customers to walk, carrying their bags, to the clubhouse area, an abomination of etiquette, class and customer service. But I digress. The young man arrived at my car and opened the conversation with this sentence; “how did you get such a nice car?” The emphasis is on the word “you,” not because he was mocking me, but rather because he said it in that overly nice, fake tone that basically says “wow, that’s a nice car, but I am not quite capable of just saying that, so I am going to say it like this.” It was as though he was saying to his grown daughter, “how did you get to be so pretty?” Fine; let the painful small talk begin, I suppose. There is, of course, no correct response to such a stupid statement on this jerk-in-training’s part. What am I supposed to do? Answer it honestly and say, “well, son, I worked my ass off and earned enough money to be able to afford it?” That of course is not the answer he is looking for, so I made some grunting noise followed by something equally as lame as his question like, “just lucky I guess.” I have found that by exuding guttural noises and using a tone that says “leave me alone,” most people will, in fact, get the message and shut the bleep up. Sadly, this young man is either oblivious to the suffering of his fellow human or just doesn’t have enough experience in knowing when to say when, so the painful small talk continued. He placed my golf bag on the cart and, as I tied my shoes with my back to him, he then said “so, where you coming from,” as if I am playing golf at some sort of Pebble Beach destination equivalent in the greater Sacramento area. While the course I was at was one of the nicer in the area, trust me when I tell you that people do not travel from afar to experience it, thus making his question completely inane. The likeliness that I was “coming from” anywhere outside of Placer County was less than 1% for the love of cheese and rice. I responded to his question with a sigh and one word answer of “Lincoln.” “Ok,” said the putz as though he approved of my city of residence. Then he asked me how my weekend had been to which I puked out a somber “fine.” “Did you play golf yesterday,” asked the schmuck. “Yes,” I said, still with my back to him as I organized my personal belongings in the trunk of my car hoping that a giant vulture would fly by and pluck this young man from the Earth. “Where did you play,” he asked as though it were any of his business. I informed him of the previous day’s course and he again approved. I closed the trunk and began to load my personal things (cell phone, cigars, power bar, etc) into my golf cart still wishing this boy would simply vaporize before my eyes. Apparently 3 seconds of silence was far too uncomfortable for the child so he awkwardly reached into his virtual rolodex and pulled out a repeat question of “so, how has your weekend been….(pause as he realizes he already asked this)….anything exciting happen?” I have to admit that I felt simultaneously bad for the kid and also at the same time the desire to murder him. This is when the catharsis hit me. At virtually any other time and place when I come in contact with a human under the age of 22, I am lucky if I get so much as eye contact and an intelligible sentence. There is a cornucopia of young, long haired, peach fuzz covered, socially awkward pimple faces infesting our retail stores and restaurants that are barely capable of putting two multi-syllabic words back to back. I despise their inability to at least look me in the eye, say “hello,” respectfully and count back my change. So along comes this clown, who is clearly precocious without any intelligence or social training, and who has obviously been told to “be friendly” to the customers. In his pea-brain vision of the world, verbally raping people in the parking lot passes for “friendliness.” What a quandary for me. On one hand, we have a man-child who is clean cut, respectful and completely without trepidation in the area of being verbal with an adult twice his age. On the other hand, he is an idiot who asks stupid questions and doesn’t know when to shut up; thus, the catharsis. Today’s American youth are simply incapable of living up to my unrealistic expectations of them. We have clearly and un-arguably been decaying as a culture and a society for about 4 decades now and there continues to be a giant chasm between the two unacceptable extremes. On one side of the gulch, live the mumbling, unsocial, unwashed, mad-at-the-world, black fingernail youths whose fathers never hugged them and who say less than 5 fully understandable words in an 8 hour work day. On the other side, exists my little friend from the golf course; a socially inept puke-sack who is courageous enough and willing to try to be part of our society, but because his father never took him to a baseball game or just talked to him, he has no idea how to interact with human kind. In a perfect world, I would be able to mentor this boy into becoming something useful for society. He, with his ability to at least look at and talk to adults (albeit in an idiotic way) is far ahead of the society-hating mumblers. This kid actually has a chance if someone would just put their arm around the boy, take him aside and tell him “look junior, you’re a nice kid and you clearly have a German-Shepherd-like desire to please but tone it down about five notches. Maybe watch an episode or two of the Jay Leno show and get some new questions to ask your guests. Most importantly, try to be attuned to the people to whom you are speaking and gauge whether or not they are enjoying your conversation. If they aren’t, cease and desist. You’ll have engaged them as company policy dictates, but you won’t have tortured them to within an inch of wishing for their own sweet death.” Sadly, we do not live in a perfect world and I, on the spot, could think of more than a billion reasons not to do this. For starters, if I did put my arm around him I would have to register as a sex offender in this stupid, paranoid country that stupidly believes that there is a pedophile around every corner. So, that move is out. Secondly, I am morally opposed to it on a principled basis. It’s not my job, damn it. It does not take a village to raise a child it takes at least one committed parent with a few close knit, personally selected helpers and mentors and that’s it. Perhaps back in the Algonquin Round Table times when I grew up circa mid-70’s, the premise of the village helping was feasible. Back when I was young, the country still had the same basic consensual outlook on child rearing. For the most part, people used to believe that kids should be respectful, not talk back, obey the rules and laws, and act like little jerk-bags. This consensus allowed adults of all walks to tell a kid when he was out of line and no one batted an eye, as it was accepted that the adult was the Alpha of society and the kid wasn’t even a real person until he turned 18 so he was lucky he hadn’t been fed to a wild animal yet. Now, we have pussified our nation into oblivion with idiotic thoughts that children need to express themselves and question authority and that kids should be allowed to make their own rules and never be told no, blah blah blah. In my world, I am not failing this child at the golf course but, rather, the village is failing me. I am a solid citizen who abides the law, contributes to the community, economy and society and stays out of other peoples’ lives. In return, all I ask is that those of you who have rat children do me and the rest of us in this country a small favor; try raising them just a little bit. My expectations of today’s youth are not unrealistic, they are simply not being met by the American parent of the 21st century.
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