Bread and circuses
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no commentI had kind of a scary thought today. My generation is probably going to be the last one in America that contains people like me who think it’s ridiculous to post updates all day long about the routine of your daily lives. My nieces and nephews are growing up in a culture that thinks this kind of narcissism, masked as all kinds of other things—optimism, “keeping in touch”, exciting so called events, and a host of other things—is perfectly acceptable, even normal. A lot of people are not going to understand this post, because they are part of the problem, and that’s fine with me because this isn’t written for them anyway. For the people it is written for, you know who you are, and you know what I mean. For God’s sake, and the sake of decency, teach your kids that indulging their every little whim isn’t always the wisest thing, that every yummy thing they eat isn’t exciting news to the rest of the world, that they should read good literature once in awhile instead of watching Jersey Shore, that they shouldn’t simultaneously send text messages while talking with someone face to face, that they can take a vacation without posting seven thousand pictures of it, and that actually going out and playing a sport and interacting with other real human beings is much more fun than sitting on their ever expanding asses all day long pushing buttons and pretending they are Kobe Bryant.
This country has been, and is at this moment well on it’s way to becoming a collection of soulless, illiterate, narcissistic boobs, and I fear that the battle is already pretty much lost, but why just lay down and become part of the problem? Make no mistake about it—we are modern day Rome, but worse. The MOB is getting bigger and bigger, and the only difference is that we have happy hour extreme buffalo wings instead of mere bread, and our circuses come in the form of TV reality shows and internet social networks, the latter of which is even worse because if you think about it, it’s simply people talking about bread and circuses.
If your kids end up this way, I don not blame them. I blame you.



