If you were one of the millions of American kids who grew up playing some variation of “cops and robbers,” ten to one no one expected you to always want to be a cop. For a nation as likely to mythologize its anti-heroes as much as its heroes, no wonder both sides have their appeal.
I know a mom who makes her four-year-old twins dance and sing along to PlayStation SingStar every day, seven days a week.
She coaches and stands guard until their session is over; no one is allowed to leave or engage in another activity.Her latest husband is even worse, prodding the twins to explain why Willow Smith is their hero. Just glimpsing these kids being paraded around in wigs and heels is about all my brain can process without punching someone. Read more
Notes from a Non-Parent™
Teaching Respect By Example: Avoid Bigoted Outbursts While Driving with Children or you might end up with an Alexandra Wallace
Original Story: Slate
With its repulsive insensitivity for Japan’s tragedy and its ignorant, racist views, Sheen goddess lookalike and privileged UCLA princess Alexandra Wallace’s YouTube mimicry of Asian students has resulted in condemnation, editorial skewering and death threats. Considering the young poly-sci student is now saying she doesn’t even know why she did it, parents take note…A Daily Bruin opinion piece sums up Wallace’s immediate future:
When this ordeal is over, Wallace is almost certainly more likely to remember the death threats and personal attacks than feel any real empathy for – or have any real understanding of – people with different social identities. The violent and abusive reactions will simply make her scared, defensive, and even more unwilling to engage in dialogue with the people she offended.
This isn’t just Alexandra’s future, it’s ours too if we can’t teach our children acceptance rather than mere tolerance. Tolerance is a droopy word, too routinely thrown around. Tolerance has become the consolation prize of a politically correct “multiculturalism.” Acceptance, on the other hand, forces us to leave our comfort zones, and that builds character. It’s what we should strive for. But since lecturing isn’t my strong suit – I prefer skinning a carcass ‘til its guts pour out on your shoes – let me give a personal example of where an otherwise good parent can go a little off the rails here.
When I was growing up, my friends and I parroted opinions and remarks we picked up from our folks in the car. That particular crucible was where Asians turned into “boat people” (mainly Vietnamese refugees back then) and homeless people were “bums” or “bag ladies.” There were others, but you get the point. And I doubt much has changed; certainly driving isn’t less hectic these days. Most people behind the wheel lose it occasionally, even usually mellow people: situations over which we have little control don’t typically bring out the best in us. My own dad was no powerlifting steroid abuser, but I sure am thankful You Tube and cell phone cameras didn’t exist during family vacations. Or trips to the store. Or to and from school, grandma’s house, baseball practice, or church. (At least you wouldn’t have heard racist crap from my Mexican-American household, though I do recall something about, “the last thing that woman drove was a goddamned ox.”)
I’m not sayin’ we should all drink chamomile tea and listen to soothing whale sounds when we drive; I’m not even advocating limiting comments when kids are in the car. I am suggesting parents think before spouting off, perhaps freely carping about the idiocy of running a stop sign instead of focusing on the ethnicity of the offending driver. And if they do let their own, er, true feelings out in the heat of the moment, later opportunities should be sought to talk about that with Susie Big Ears in the back. Not doing so sends a message – and it ain’t one of acceptance.
Given that what many parents either impose on or allow their kids to have eventually becomes an undesirable adult trait, such as entitlement or being overly managed to the point of a you-name-it anxiety disorder, not using these moments to teach children to effectively manage their stress is a bad idea, as Alexandra Wallace demonstrates. (Now please humor me while I repeat this with a special patois for my fellow aging punk rock friends who are parents: This shit evolves! Don’t let ‘em sidestep punishments because you’re afraid to be seen as the bad guy! Don’t be a chickenshit and slack off when it comes to consequences! Follow through on penalties and praise or you’ll just generate another asshole like the one you work with who doesn’t think rules apply to him or her.)
Maybe Alexandra grew up hearing “University of Caucasians Lost among Asians,” which I first heard back in high school (during the later ‘90s the amusingly opposing, “Ugly Caucasians, Lovely Asians” became popular, though I still love “Under Construction Like Always”). She was certainly blindsided by the negative publicity her “manners” lesson garnered, which suggests that the belief racial slurs are okay as long as they’re “all in good fun” was also learned at home. Or in the car. Railing against gabby Asians in the library isn’t all that different from angrily reacting to being cut off in traffic; the cause-response mechanism is the same. And just look where it can lead:
P.S. And kids? DUH! Aren’t you supposed to be the tech-savvy generation? Don’t you know there’s always a camera waiting to put your dumbest acts on the Internet? Guess what, Madison and Dexter…tattooing your foreheads with “Tsunami’s Rock” will get you farther in life. ‘Cause sometimes, fame just shows you’re a lame.
“It’s funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.” – Alexander DeLarge
Does it really matter if AB 1179 – the California law criminalizing the sale and rental of certain video games to minors – is killed by the Supreme Court on First Amendment grounds? Read more
Forget Sh*t My Dad Says; if you’re a dad, start saying “Let’s talk.”
1. Shoplifting – This may seem obvious, but it all begins with Read more
Michigan SuperMom Given Nine Years for Sex with 14-Year-old Biological Son – And Begins Human Extinction Process
id•i•ot – id-ee-uht – noun
1. an utterly foolish or senseless person.
Synonyms: half-wit, imbecile, moron
It’s difficult not to write this woman off an idiot, so if I refer to her as an idiot many, many times, A) it’s my opinion, and, B) generally speaking, idiots do declare/write things like this.
For those who haven’t heard the story, Aimee L. Sword gave up her son when he was an infant, receiving birthday photos over the years from the boy’s adoptive family. When he was old enough to start a Facebook account she allegedly contacted him, cursing her posts with anonymity, treachery and sickness. Eventually, Sword initiated a sexual relationship with her biological son, for which she pled guilty and was sentenced to 9-30 years.
Theories as to what motivated Sword are stacked up like inbound flights at LAX, and her attorney says his client has decided to “seek counseling.“ Ha! Whether or not she’s curious about why she viewed her own child as a sexual object, or even which Simpson’s character will best represent her in court, she’s going to have both court-appointed and private psychiatrists muttering “idiot” under their breaths for the rest of her life –and on every reality show she’s ever “invited” to participate in.
But back to the theories…
There’s one that says that since Sword wasn’t around to raise her son, she wasn’t “inoculated” against a romantic fixation. A more household theory relates to Sword’s claim that she was abused as a child and that the “pattern” could be a partial cause. But the prizewinner making the rounds is GSA, or “Genetic Sexual Attraction” (are you listening Pfizer? GlaxoSmithKline?). Presumably, sufferers of GSA syndrome are ruled by incestuous romance and sexual fantasy.
GSA’s origins began with “The Forbidden Love” and continues with “I’m His Mother, But He’s Not My Son,” by Barbara Gonyo, a woman who –while making no excuses for her own “atrocious” behavior– does paint creepy pictures of clowns, children and a nature scene that, given the context, looks to me like a writhing orgy. But that might’ve been the power of suggestion, as her website, which supports others dealing with GSA, makes it soul-scorchingly clear that it isn’t a porn site or “a place to fantasize.” Neither is it, oddly, “for incest victims of childhood abuse or their abusers,” which sorta makes the whole bunch seem a bit all over the map. I’d think Gonyo would want to encourage incest victims to seek potentially pertinent information…
Okay-okay, despite the heavy “they just don’t understand us” vibe that permeates the GSA site –and I’m not denigrating Gonyo’s effort to educate the public– as far as I can tell, no one is claiming what GSA may sound like: that it’s in your DNA, and that the day your threw your tattle-tale sister into a ditch, genetics were routing you toward something rated XXX and so forth.
But others might make GSA an excuse, and that’s my beef! With all of this enlightening chatter about GSA, how long will it be until we hear someone tease a co-worker with, “Ooh, I think I have a little GSA for the new girl!” And how long after this cutesiness will we see full-blown GSA segments on the afternoon news or Dr. Phil? And never-mind Aimee L. Sword, who –GSA-or-no-GSA– should have stepped the hell off and not pursued something she knew damn good ‘n well was Caligula-Level Wrong: when does all this become “treatable?” Because where ever there’s a cure, or more accurately, a diagnosis, you’ll find an excuse.
