Thursday, June 16, 2016

Younger Generation

Once again WSF goes philosophical and, as usual, makes a half baked observation. You have been warned.

Yesterday was in the nineties (Yes, a pleasant day in Texas). While stopped at a traffic light couldn’t help but notice two young men in a car next to me. Heavily tattooed, wife beater shirts, cigarettes, and loud blaring rap from their stereo made them hard to ignore. In nearly every stereotype way, they were proclaiming to the world they are baaaad asses.

It made me happy to see them. In today’s world of effeminate young males, it was refreshing to see masculine males. Maybe they are just posers. Even so, they have the guts to pose, and face possible consequences for projecting an image many find offensive.

In my youth we rolled a cigarette pack in the sleeve of our T shirt, street raced, and got into bar fights. On occasion, real bad asses showed us we weren’t. Scars were a badge of honor, especially scared knuckles. A broken nose was a common sight. Young women were attracted to bad boys, to men who they could count on to protect them.  Today?

Even rap is becoming “pop” says my son who is an expert on heavy metal (one of his blogs is on my side bar).

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.   George Orwell

Where are the rough men going to come from in our current cultural emasculation of boys?


Bless the rebellious youth. May we have more of them.

4 comments:

  1. Not all our youth are pussies. There are enough good-ole-boys to keep the military and police force manned. And I do believe more would join up if the POTUS changes.

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    1. Let us remember the women. They lack the physical strength but have more than enough courage and determination.

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  2. I'm afraid pajama boy is more the norm in the liberal enclaves... Thankfully there is a LOT of flyover country that has real people in it, including boys that know how to fight, and women who will kick their asses if they don't! :-)

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    1. Growing up in flyover country I learned, when dating a ranch girl, to be very careful where you put your hands.

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