The problem with young people today is that they think they know everything.
When I was a lad, young people were ignorant – and we were smart enough to know it.
We understood that wisdom came with experience, maturity and age. Knowledge was the purview of the educated, the wealthy and the gainfully employed, not feckless pinheads with an over-inflated sense of self-worth and Wikipedia book marked on their laptops.
In my day young people didn’t presume to understand important issues let alone have an opinion on them. If my old dad told me the piano teacher from down the road was a communist sympathiser, I didn’t offer up some lukewarm retread of the First Amendment in response – I shunned the man in public, pelted his house with crab apples and joined with a mob to run him out of town.
And even if we did think we knew better than our parents we kept our mouths shut. Contradict my father? I may have been ignorant but I sure as Hell wasn’t stupid.
But nowadays, every blowhole of a 15-year old thinks they have the answer to everything from healthcare reform to global warming to the pitching needs of the New York Yankees. And all based on their extensive experience sitting in their parent’s basement watching Scooby Doo Cartons, Ashton Kutcher movies and stuffing their mouths with Ding-Dongs, Skittles and Baby Ruth candy bars.
I blame television for the whole damned mess.
At first, children’s programs were meant to do little more than stop an unattended sprog from sticking his tongue in an electrical outlet but somewhere along the line they started slipping in nasty messages telling these damned kids they were unique, smart and had opinions worth sharing.
Well let me tell you, that damned Elmo may think you’re special but as far as I’m concerned until you’ve hung up your hoodie, held down a job and paid into the tax system, you’re just some know-nothing teenager who’d be wise to keep your damned mouth shut, your opinions to yourself and let the adults do your thinking for you.
That’s just my opinion. But unless you’re over 40, I don’t want to hear any argument.
They think they know everything. That’s the problem with young people today.
Few things gall my bladder more than the fact that damned young people today seem intent on laying claim to all of the ailments that were previously the sole purview of senior citizens.
There was a time not too long ago when you weren’t allowed to have a heart attack until you’d spent 30 years working behind a desk smoking two packs of Camels a day and drinking whiskey at afternoon business meetings. Nobody handed you your massive coronary – you damn well earned it.
But nowadays, every little bugger with a taste for Big Macs and a fear of physical activity is clogging up their arteries and my hospital emergency room with their damned grade school heart attacks. Call me old fashioned but I don’t think I should have to wait for my weekly defibrillation while some wheezy kid in short pants has his pace maker tuned up. I waited 60 years for my triple bypass and they should too damn it.
It’s typical of young people today – always looking for a shortcut. In my day young people got chicken pox, measles and mumps and we were satisfied with that. We had respect for health care, for natural aging and our elders.
You don’t see me running around with acne, croup or going through puberty. I’m not stealing your orthodonist’s appointment to get my damned headgear tightened.
And it’s not just heart attacks. They’re horning in on our adult onset diabetes, lengthening the line up for artificial hips and generally stealing our ailments left, right and centre.
Even the denture clinic is full of toothless meth addicts hell bent on getting their grubby paws on an upper partial. It’s damned disgraceful and unfair to the rest of us that had to wait for our teeth to decay the old fashioned way. I have no interest in wrestling some drug-addled hooligan for the last tube of Poly-Grip at the drugstore and I resent their damned interloping.
Mark my words, next they’ll be coming after our rheumatoid arthritis and cataracts. And then how long will it be before they want incontinence? Before they’re stealing our dementia? Our hunched backs?
It’s a damned sad state of affairs I don’t mind telling you – and it’s going to get a Hell of a lot worse if someone doesn’t step up and straighten these young people out soon.
Galling. That’s what it is.
I’ve heard from many seniors about their terrifying run-ins with young people. In response, I’ve prepared a simple pamphlet to help oldsters identify young people, avoid them and deal with chance encounters.
(NOTE: I may have borrowed liberally from a State Park brochure on black bears but I make no apologies…a threat is a threat damn it)
I trust this of assistance.
p.s. watch for a mid-week guest post by my old friend Clifton L. Tanager
The trouble with young people today is that they have no fear of authority.
Back when I was a boy, young people lived in a constant state of terror. We were frightened of our parents, terrified of police, petrified of a vengeful God and lived with the ever-present dread that a misspelled word or wayward spit ball would incite the wrath of a strap-happy teacher.
It was a healthy fear, damn it.
Fear kept us in check and ensured that we damn well toed the line. It stopped us from questioning the actions of our leaders, forced us to respect the behavior of our clergy and kept us from engaging in foolhardy acts of criminal mischief.
In my day, if a boy even thought of pilfering a pack of Good’n’Plenty his knees would knock in anticipation of the beating he’d receive at the hands of the store keep, his father and anyone else within a 10 mile radius who had a free hand and a belt holding up their trousers.
A lad’s hands would tremble too violently to successfully negotiate a young gal’s brassiere – certain as we were that a moment’s pleasure today led to a fiery damnation and thorough pitchforking at the hands of Beelzebub’s imps tomorrow.
But these young people today feel free to commit any nefarious act they choose knowing full well that the worst they’ll receive is a gentle probing of their fragile psyche, some parental scapegoating and an increased popularity among the penny-ante thugs at their local high school.
They know it’s a damned crime for anyone to raise a hand to them, say a harsh word or even give them a sideways glance so they feel free to thumb their pierced noses at police, sass their elders, fornicate like crack-addled rabbits and generally behave as if they are above the law and immune from any form of recourse.
Fear of authority is the glue that binds decent folks together. And unless these damned young people wake up and smell the terror, America is destined to continue heading down a one way road to anarchy, mayhem, free thought and complete societal collapse.
And frankly, that scares the Hell out of me.
They have no fear of authority. That’s the trouble with young people today.
Few things chaff my thighs more than damned teenagers who don’t know when to hang up the pillowcase and stop trolling for free candy on Halloween.
I have no objection to doling out some boxed raisins or wintergreen lozenges to a damned 3-year old in a Garfield costume but I get pretty incensed when some pock-marked 17-year old smelling of old bong water and sloth shows up at my door with a insolent scowl and a demand for free food.
In my day, teenagers didn’t go trick or treating – we were too busy holding down jobs, harvesting crops or overseas serving in the armed forces. But nowadays it seems young people trick or treat into their early 20s. Half the “kids” that bang on my door are over six feet tall, have five o’clock shadow and voices deeper than Elaine Stritch.
And, Jesus Christ, if you insist on coming to my door looking to scrounge some hard candy at least work for it. These damned teens refuse to say “trick or treat,” won’t make eye contact and sure as hell don’t bother with costumes. They dress as “rappers” or “gangstas” and stick a sack under your nose while text messaging their location to other scurrilous moochers in search of easy prey.
If they intend to carry on with this shameless behavior the least they could do is dress like hobos or – perhaps more accurately – petty thieves.
And to add insult to indignity, they’re pounding on my door at 9 o’clock when I’m already in my nightshirt and well after the time that most legitimate trick or treaters have already gone home, gorged themselves senseless and thrown up on the area rug.
I’d send them running with their tales between their legs but they always have an air of violence about them. Rebuke their sniveling demands and you’re likely to find your pumpkins violated, your rose bushes covered in toilet paper and your windows spattered with eggs.
Well, threat or no threat, this year I’m saying “No”.
Be advised that any damned teenager who shows up at my door this Halloween won’t be getting anything but a copy of the want ads, directions to the local military recruitment centre and a cane to the side of the head.
Happy Halloween. Now get the Hell off my lawn.
p.s.
A while back my young friend Zman indicated that if he really wanted to scare the kiddies on Halloween he’d costume himself as Don Mills. I think it’s a fine idea so….here’s a mask for you lad. Try not to upset the young ones too much.
