Woketarded

We spent some time with friends this weekend.

After dinner we were chatting and catching up. Turns out their daughter, who’s in college, calls her dad and chastises him about his white privelege. This couple is younger than us, lives in a modest house in the neighborhood that they, no doubt, bought long before the market went full retard here.

They are hard working, devout christians, that love and support their kids. Pretty near your average Texan.

I told him that the crux of this thing is simply validating envy. That kids growing up with two parents who care for them, sacrifice to put a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, food in their belly, and knowlege in their heads isn’t privelege. It’s normal. It’s normal worldwide, pretty much. There’s only one culture in the US where it isn’t.

I also told him “Meh…I knew everything when I was that age, too”

She’ll learn, soon enough.

Right after graduation, trying to find work and then working for a living, trying to pay and make her way in the world, she’ll find out just how low she really is on the world’s totem pole and how nice it is to visit people that love you that usually have good food cooking to celebrate your visit.

By the way, this was the crux of the occupy movement. A class of people that made bad decisions, spent way too much money for way too little value, finding out that, yup, those tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands they spent on education didn’t move them up one face on that totem pole.

They have less skill and worth than your average immigrant, who generally knows how to do stuff and has a work ethic foreign to these doughy handed losers.

The other thing she’ll find is shortly after marrying and having kids, if that happens, she’ll wonder, as my wife and I did, how the hell our parents did it. We know now that they worked hard and sacrificed.

I’ve had a number of conversations with my own kids that probably kept this silliness at bay. I told each one, usually as a story-with-a-point, about how when I was their age I was flat out told when I turned 18 that I was expected to either go away to school, go to local school and thus stay home, or get a job and move out. My dad would tell is that there’s a time for every bird to leave the nest, to which he’d say ‘flap-flap-flap’ while making a flapping wing motion with his hands.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request. They had given us love, support, and the best education they could in those 18 years to enable us to do just that – flap our wings and fly.

One of the other conversations I had was to acknowledge they were adults and now the field was striped differently. They were now guests in our home and expected to follow a few simple house rules. And, by the way, now that they were adults I didn’t have to let them stay there, I didn’t have to pay one bit for college, but these were things we did because they’re our kids. Herself was vexed when she heard of this conversation and asked me about it. It wasn’t a conversation that was threatening, or made in anger. I was merely reminding them, in my affable way, that they are adults and should be grateful for our support.

We were lucky that all this craziness happened when nearly all our kids were out of college. My youngest went to a super liberal college and somehow managed to keep her sanity. Besides, our kids learned at an early age that nothing in life was free. We pretty much made sure of that both through how we brought them up, but also how they saw us deal with things.

They also know that their old man has a biting wit and a huge sarcasm fu. They’d expect me to remind them of the fifth commandment to honor their father and mother just before telling them that if they wanted to be ‘down for the stuggle’ I would surely give them something to struggle over.

For even a dog knows not to bite the hand that feeds it.