I really don’t like always being the bearer of bad news. It’s the whole Rosencrantz and Guildenstern thing about killing the messenger, but it looks like I am the only one who has volunteered to play the role of town crier, so here it goes. As I look at man today, I would have to bear witness to the fact that we have become more pathetic than each of the generations that have preceded us. I am looking out across the square that I am sitting in observing the people gathered and walking around, reflecting back on some of the random thoughts left in the comment sections of the blogs I read, or the fact that there are such things as blogs, and it becomes clearly evident to me that with each successive generation some kind of visceral masculinity is lost among us men. The ability for us to actually build and fashion things, to manipulate our surroundings, and to survive seem to be slowly dissipating from our bodies.
There was a show on TV called Lost that made people believe that they would survive if stranded on a deserted island. Well, I guess we can go back even further and blame, the professor and Mary-Anne “…here on Gilligan’s Island” for all the confusion. The fact of the matter is that if a large group of people were stranded on a deserted island somewhere in the Pacific, it would first look like a scene out of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, then quickly turn into the treasure diorama from the Disneyland ride Pirates of the Caribbean. We would just be a bunch of skeletons wearing clothes, because no one would survive. We would first break down into some kind of maniacal anarchy where the rule of the desert, OTSS would apply. And then the remaining people would have nowhere to plug in their iphones or Blackberrys making it impossible for them to actually cope with the reality of the situation. People would eat poisoned berries, fall victim to the elements or any natural predators on the island, and the rest would subcome to their own insanity. The show Lost would be renamed, Dead, and Gilligan’s Island along with it.
But all joking aside, the degradation in our manly abilities is the result a fundamental breakdown in the conditioning, education, and rearing of our youth. No longer can people be patient and wait for results. The Black Eyed Peas were correct when they sang about who we have become. We are the Now Generation. We have all fallen victim to the manifestation of instantaneous gratification. If it can’t be had now, we don’t want it. If it isn’t instantly available, it’s not worth having. Perseverance, determination, sacrifice, and grit used to be admirable characteristics. Nowadays, if results are not seen immediately, then you have failed. Even failure is seen as a waste of time. Yet failure is what allows us to succeed; it is not the first step to ruin, but the last stop on the road to success. We have all become self-neutered dependent metrosexual men.
We have become so reliant on our machines, devices, and gadgets that make our lives easier that we have forgotten how to actually live our lives as men. Our preprogrammed alarm clock wakes us up, which leads us to our already made preset coffee maker, which is consumed as we program our destination into our car’s navigation, as we tweet about this mornings thought of the day. Forget getting stranded on an island, if there was a power outage we would be Lost.