I was reading the news last week when I read about the miraculous discovery of a boy who had been missing for almost five years. It so happens that after another boy went missing in St. Louis, a few days ago, the two were discovered in a nearby home. What struck me as odd about this story was that the police were able to discover the location of the kidnapper who was holding both children captive because his white, unmarked van matched the description of the van last seen right before the second boy’s abduction. Now, I’m not trying to mock kidnapping, because it is a horrible crime, but how stupid did this kidnapper have to be to own a white, unmarked van? Isn’t it a common law fact that all kidnappers, serial killers, and child molesters drive white, unmarked vans? This kidnapper thereby earns the honor of “moron of the week,” presented by me**.
I’m not trying to be crass, although I’m sure some of you will think that I am, but I distinctly remember, as a child, fearing any and all white, unmarked vans, and I don’t even think you can classify this as a so-called irrational fear of mine. I don’t think its irrational because I know that as a child, it didn’t matter where I was, or how safe I felt among the people I was with, whenever I saw one of those white, unmarked vans, then my brain would instantly flip through its catalogue of well remembered news stories and episodes of “Unsolved Mysteries,” each of which always featured the fact that the villain owned a “white, unmarked van,” and I would tremble with fear and adrenaline.
But let’s not worry ourselves with a subject as heavy as kidnapping. Instead, lets focus on the future, let’s talk about the children! This column has actually been a very long time coming, because, well, let’s face it; I’m a crotchety old man, and I’m not very optimistic about our world’s future. It’s not that I don’t like kids; I like kids, so long as I don’t have to interact with them. But more often than not, when I see children, and I overhear their chatter, I find myself rolling my eyes. Now I know that I’m only twenty-five years old, so to many of my readers, especially the older ones, I am myself, “just a kid,” so allow me to make the following age distinction: For the sake of exploring the subject of “What the hell is wrong with kids today”, the term kid applies to young-human-beings-who-are-still-in-high-school-or-younger.” Got that? Okay!
Kids, sigh; you see them everywhere these days, and they’re impossible to ignore! They look like zombies, what with their headphones over both ears, at all times, and their eyes always glued to a cell phone on which they are either text messaging, playing video games, or watching TV. I bicycle around town a lot, and when I pull up next to a mini van, It’s scary to see the modern domestic mini-van family in action. What I see, these days, are a mom and dad in the front seats, and then one to three kids in the back seats, each of them with their own headphone set playing music, and their eyes down cast on their cell phone or looking up at the front seat’s built in DVD player. It’s no wonder that ADD seems to affect more and more children each year, it’s because no one needs an attention span anymore; the media can entertain you, no matter where you go!
And don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming technology for the problems I see with youth today; no, no, no, and I’m not blaming the I-Pod or Verizon’s “EnV” all-in-one-digital-music-station-phone-and-computer tool either. These inventions are, to appropriately date myself, “rad,” and I have wanted to see each of these inventions come to fruition since I was old enough to watch movies like Back to the Future Part II. But I do believe that kids need to get outdoors a little more often, and experience nature, and reality. So if you own any kids yourself (yes, I just said own), then do us all a favor, and take them by the neck, tear away anything electronic from their person, and throw them in your front yard today, lock the door, and let them explore reality for a couple of hours. Yes that’s right, kick ‘em right on out, let them play in trees, and let them also discover the joys of smoking stolen cigarettes, the thrill of shoulder tapping for beer, and the elegant mystery that is getting in a fight and having your ass kicked – it builds character, trust me.
But how can kids enjoy reality when their playgrounds are about as fun as a plastic castle in a fish bowl, and when school districts are literally banning games like tag in order to prevent ‘inappropriate touching’ between school children? Have you seen the ridiculous plastic monstrosities that schools are calling playgrounds these days? There’s not a speck of metal to be found, unless it’s wrapped in six inches of soft plastic, and there isn’t a shred of wood to be found, either. They don’t even use sand in playgrounds anymore! How the hell is a kid supposed to learn about how hot metal gets in the summer-time sun without a ridiculously hot, metal slide? And how on Earth is a child supposed to learn about splinters, cuts, and bruises without some wooden poles and bridges upon which to slip, cut, fall, and mangle themselves on? If we continue to coddle kids the way this current generation is being coddled, then I think I’m going to have to throw in the proverbial white flag right here and now, and admit it to the world that the terrorists have won – the terrorists, in this case, being overprotective soccer moms and PTA presidents, who think that the world should be toned down for their precious offspring, lest they actually learn a thing or two about how harsh reality can be, while literally growing up!
I say this because it is precisely the tenacity and autonomy that previous generations of children were forced to cultivate in their youth that allowed little boys and girls to grow into men and women, the types who would ration their consumption of energy and food in order to help the economy during great depressions and even greater world wars; the types of adults who wouldn’t tattle on each other, but actually sort out their problems on their own; without lawyers, courtrooms, or arbitrators. Come to think of it, I don’t know what is more discomforting to me, the fact that kids use guns and knives instead of their fists to resolve their problems, or the fact that my friend, who is a high school teacher, tells me that one of the biggest problems he faces as a teacher is the confiscation of kids’ cell phones because they are texting in class. Whatever happened to talking out loud?
The next generation of kids, mark my words, will be the most coddled, technologically dependent, and socially inept generation of humanoids to ever inherit the earth. And they will have grown up during a time of tremendous political turmoil involving endless scandals, double speak, and war mongering. I fear their take over very much, and yet it is already too late, because I’m too old to make changes, and because I’ve gone on record and spoken honestly about my opinions far too much to ever be elected as a senator or even a congressman. If only I’d learned how keep my real thoughts more private, and honed my ability to pretend to be someone that I’m not at an early age, then maybe I could have run for office, and made a career out of it. What’s the name of this column?
But children today are not entirely to blame for their own ineptitude, since it is up to us, as their elders, to actually fund public education, and to stand up for their rights. Because if I do remember anything from my adolescence, it is that here in America, children don’t have a lot of rights. And as far as role models go, our generation really sucks! I cannot, for the life of me, think of a single television, film, or music star who is under the age of 30 and not a narcissistic and seemingly stupid twerp, obsessed with their physical figure, and perhaps their income figure to a lesser degree. And if you don’t believe me, or agree with me, then please allow me to conclude this column with a true story that happened to me about two weeks ago. And in case any of my readers are like the children of today, and bored with my old fashioned prose, I’ve made this story an easy read for you, and written it out in standard Hollywood Screenplay Format...it’s just like seeing a movie!
“As The Hamster Wheel Turns.” – A one act, one scene film, By Mike Oppenheim.
CAST: (In order of appearance.)
MAIN STAR – A not-so-notorious musician turned slacker turned author who rarely shaves his face, wears clothes from the nineties, and talks as though he’s eighty years old. Would probably have a great time hanging out with Andy Rooney from Sixty Minutes.
GIRL A – Thin, tall, slender built high school girl with braces and a good complexion.
GIRL B – A not-as-thin, but still thin shorter girl, with no braces, and dyed roots.
TELLER – banker who always tells you about the new promotions their bank is offering.
ACT ONE – SCENE ONE - AT THE BANK - THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
MAIN STAR is dressed in jeans and an old button down shirt. He’s waiting in line at the bank for a teller to allow him to deposit a paycheck so that he can pay his next month’s rent. MAIN STAR waits behind two teenage girls. As he waits, he overhears the two girls conversing as one waits in line with the other for her to cash a check.
As MAIN STAR rubs his head and neck, in a vain attempt to nurse a three-dollar bottle of red wine induced hangover, GIRL A and GIRL B begin to speak. MAIN STAR listens, and resists an urge to help Darwin out, and put the girls out of their misery.
GIRL A (compulsively looks around the bank to see who is looking at her) “Like, oh my god, did I tell you that I think that I’m like going to have to like wear glasses soon?”
GIRL B (stops looking around to see who is looking at her, looks at GIRL A, and sticks her tongue out, giggling) “Like oh my god, you’re going to have glasses and braces; I’m so going to have to like make fun of you for that! You’re totally going to be a dork!”
GIRL A (laughs out loud, nervously) “Well, I have to have my eyes checked out by some doctor-dude, and I’m like positive that he’s going to make me wear glasses.”
GIRL B (pauses, hamster wheel of a brain turns one full revolution) “Well, at least you’re not fat, and you don’t have zits! If you did, I wouldn’t even be your friend anymore!”
GIRL A (smiles again, looks more relaxed) “Oh my god, you are so right, I’d have to shoot myself if I were fat. Can you imagine what that would be like? I’ll never be fat!”
GIRL B (nods in agreement) “I can’t even imagine what that would be like, but I just know that I like totally couldn’t deal with that. I’d rather have glasses and braces any day over being fat. I don’t think I could even live with myself if I were fat. How could I?”
TELLER (who is fat) “Next?”
—SCENE—
Addendum: Neither of these girls, at the time of the actual incident, was even remotely overweight, if anything, they seemed dangerously thin. However, given my experience in college, and the years since graduation, I would venture to guess that after learning how to drink, either girl, (especially girl B), could easily run the risk of putting on some serious beer weight in their early twenties, but since they will still probably fear and hate the idea of being fat more than the fear of drug addiction, I believe that if this becomes the case, they will turn to cocaine in order to lessen their appetite, just like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan have, not to mention most of their other role model options. And the DVD version of my film would feature a deleted scene (which actually happened), in which GIRL A is unable to cash her check, because she doesn’t have an I.D., or a bank account. She is bewildered by her lack of options, and repeatedly asks the teller why her High School I.D. card and cell phone are not able to allow her to cash her check.