What would RTH do?

That is the question.

If I were in a highschool yearbook, they would vote me most likely to die of a lynch mob. That does not prevent me from opening my mouth and serving a warm hearty cup of STFU to people who deserve it. My dark scathing humor will leave no matter of existence untouched. My innocence will touch your soul.

Welcome to a warped world turned inside out and upside down. All sorts of discretion advised.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

So you think you can - Generation Pussy?

There was generation X, Y, and Z. Now the next breed of children that our world is raising can perhaps best be described as generation pussy. This is a strange world that we live in in, with reality TV shows and all that jazz. Ten years ago things were looking quite good, and now all of a sudden we are on this surreal detour.

We live in a world where text messaging is the most active and energetic sport children engage in. Leading a guild in World of Warcraft apparently establishes leadership experience. It is not important if you know what DNA stands for or what H2O is, as long as you can cipher out words such as OMFG, ROTFLMAO and such. As we can see this definitely is not the generation that is going to sustain the human population in apocalyptic times. In fact this is the very generation that will bring the apocalypse through their meddlings with Cyberdine systems.

However, my issue with them can be dealt with later. My pressign concern at the moment is the parent generation of generation pussy. Of course I perhaps fall in this parent generation, as a lot of my peers are mayhap parenting. But, since I have no degraded mother earth with more burdens, I feel I am entitled to the priviliges of scorning disdainfully at irresponsible parenthood.

Case in point - reality shows with children. I usually do not watch many reality shows. Ok, I do watch Indian Idol, Dance Indian Dance, Jhalak Dikhlaa Jaa - and food network shows like Chopped and Iron Chef. But I'm not into it like the crazies.

So recently, I watched Sa Re Ga Ma Pa little champs. Now I have to admit that some of the kids blew my mind and left my jaw dropping in awe. But for the most part, I hid under the covers wondering what atrocity on screen was screaming like the rejected love child of a banshee and a cat with a sore throat. It came as no surprise that the judge left screaming 'save me'.

Now some people call that making fun of children. But tell me, how do you tell a child that they frighten you more than Linda Blair in the Exorcist and you'd rather have them spiderwalk and throw up on you instead of opening their mouths. How do you react when the best thing for the good of the world is to hand the parents a lifetime supply of really high quality duct tape.

A lot of people feel that young children should be handled with kid gloves and not receive such treatment. Fair enough I say, because what the fuck were the parents thinking. When I try to sing, my entire family tackles me down and attempts to seal my mouth. How someone who makes me sound like an angel with a silky voice and honeyed tongue, is allowed to sing on public television by their own parents. If it was my child, I would have established a blockade to prevent my child from embarassing themselves.

It is not the public embarassment that bothers me, but the expectation of people that these children ought to be coddled and not made fun of. I remember playing hockey. Every time we missed our hits, our coach would look up in the sky say sarcastically 'look there, the balls going to Jupiter'. If we were too slow or incompetent, the coach would scream on top of his lungs the choicest of animal names like saandh (bull) or suer (pig). They had no qualms calling our game raanti (of the jungle, uncivilized, not fit for humans).

There is a certain motivation in degradation. One of my finest games of badminton, was the result of degradation motivation. I was down 14-0, and all my friends were making fun off me. Worse, my own dad laughed at my horrendous position. I turned around and won that game.

Degradation works even for the sensitive souls, degradation can spark a fire within. The challenge of the coach is to find the right degradation and never push the limits. The challenge of the parent is to teach their child to seek inspiration in degradation. Of course us sports people have more balls than the average person, but still back in my day even the music teacher or dance teacher used such techniques.

Call me masochistic, but I miss the good old days when a teacher could insult me in class. When I could get rapped on the knuckles or had an erasor thrown at me for misbehaving. When punishment was kneeling in the hot sun, clearing pebbles of the soccer field and such meaningful work. Not this pussyish one hour detention business. What the heck, we think we can discipline teens sending them in the corner which is like a big hall. I miss the days when people did not feel obligated to waste their time on character destroying niceties. None of this pussyish nonsense of treating kids like they were fragile ice sculptures in the middle of an Arabic summer afternoon.

I maybe harsh, but I tell it like it is....like it was meant to be. I am NOT generation pussy like some of you out there.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.