We had a brief discussion about the obnoxious, arrogant, self-absorbed tendencies of human beings in the 16 yr. > 23 year old range. I hate to sound like one of those elder geezers, wagging my finger and waving a cane, "Listen up sonny, you'll rue the day you crossed paths with old man Saf." But honestly, what the fuck is wrong with this segment of humanity? Where did this new breed of human beings spawn from? They almost seem genetically mutated. Their sole purpose... to shock, disturb and annoy.
Let's take a moment to reflect on societal "advancements." Music videos, internet accessibility and cell phones.
Yeah, I know. Our generation had its seedy music videos. We grew up with visions of that girl in the "Home Sweet Home video" having her top pulled off (at the 3:51 mark)...
But nowadays, I don't think they even have music videos. They just merge some regurgitated song with the latest Jersey reality episode. Why spend all that money on production when you can simply unveil the latest mega-hit to visions of Snookie throwing a banana split in the face of some bartender that cut her off? And the music is either blippy, annoying synthetic sounds or it's all metal-based, gutteral grunts. Even worse are the bland, repetitive commercial refrains. There's no rhythm, no melody, no passion, no inspiration, no talent. It's all about the perceived personality of some dumbshit. She's a pasty white, freckled, chunky thug from Chattanooga who stumbled into the set of American Idol. For Christ sake, she's drunk on oxycontin. Good gravy. Hey, wait a damn minute! Let's give her chance. Turns out, underneath it all, she has this amazing heart. OMG, her operatic, inspired voice? Who woulda thunk it? Not meeeee. And her rise to fame... did you know she suffers from type 2 diabetes. And there's a rumor on the internet that she had a swastika tattoo... but she had it removed. It was the dying request of her beloved grandmother who raised her because her alcoholic mother fell off a ferris wheel, plummeting to her demise. It's this rich tapestry of tragic events that make her exceptionally special. Now, instead of the swastika, there's a new tattoo sporting her son's name COLTON. You see... she got that hateful scar covered up. Now, when she looks at it she's reminded of how much she has to live for. It's all about the pre-packaged story. Why bother having talent when all you need is a cover story and some zany, ultra-choreographed dance move for the sheeple? And the teen masses will scream and cry as she emerges from the lead stretch limo. Her family and entourage are in the accompanying 5 limos. Now that's poignant. I can see why America fell in love with female superstar and stunning, new sensation... Ticky Jo. Dial 1-900-VOTE4JO if you support Ticky (only $1.99 per vote. And you'll also be the lucky recipient of several special, exclusive offers).
So Saf, how the fuck does this translate to "unruly youth?" Isn't this just the latest barrage of reality tv garbage? Well, you have to read between the lines. When teenage kids see this shit, it has an impact. They begun to think... what's my story? I need to show the world my routine. I will immerse it in shock value. I want the attention. I want to be important and loved. Therefore, I will construct the story of my life. But wait a minute, my life is drab and mundane. The only thing that brings me a joy is stuffing my face with multiple sausage dogs at the annual Italian Festival. So I will devise a plan. I will pattern my behavior after a true American hero... Ticky Jo. But I will take it to the next level. A louder voice, meaner tattoos, bolder clothing, higher teased hair, more facial piercings, more cell phone accessories. I will stand out head and shoulders above the rest. My awesome presence will be a force to be reckoned with (in Benwood, West Virginia). And when me and my posse come rollin' through town on our hot pink tri-scooters, everyone will see us coming from a mile away. We will scream our brains out. Secretaries on their lunch break and elderly vacationers will be horrified. Because we are truly... the youth gone wild.
As disturbing as reality tv crapola is, there's something for worse. Yep, you guessed it. Internet porn. Wait a fucking god damn minute Saf. Aren't you a leading proponent of anything related to freedom of speech and expression? Yes, that would be an accurate statement. But the warped world of porn has gotten so extreme that it borders on ludicrous. I can't fathom how someone approaching puberty would be able to comprehend this stuff. If by some miracle, they were able to comprehend it (midget urinating on gangbang participants), then what about the ensuing rationalization process? It all just doesn't compute anymore. With visions of this stuff impacted in their brain, how on earth is a kid supposed to reasonably explore their sexuality? And what about the expectations of their partner? That's where it likely gets really creepy. Saf, you need not worry. When the kids see the under/over the age of 18 disclaimer, they clearly feel morally compelled to click the exit link. This takes them back to the G rated section of the internet. Yeah, right. Event though my paternal instincts are solely grounded in an "Oglebay Village Father of the Year" Halloween costume from back in the day (sometime during 1999-2001), I am aware of one immutable fact. Out of 6.8 billion inhabitants on the planet earth, not one of them has ever clicked the "exit" link.
Finally, my disgust with cell phones. Saf, I didn't know you had a problem with cell phones? I thought you were the downloader of apps, the texter of giants, the dialer of douchebags. Not quite. I've often spoken of my revulsion to the technological self-absorption. It's just another extension of this never-ending self-importance and narcissistic lust. Every kid has to feed their insatiable ego. And it's getting so much worse. It seems every member of society requires that incessant reassurance. Not only must everyone be interested in me, everyone needs to have visible proof that others find me equally intriguing. They will see me intensely engrossed in the cell screen at all times. I have no inclination to speak to the other people seated at the table. For I must converse with my cellulite friends. The cellular existence must take precedence above all else. All those tangible experiences are for losers.
One thing strikes me as painfully obvious. There will come a time when the confusion of the virtual world is violently exposed. And it will likely ravage society in ways that very few have ever conceived possible.