I’m starting to be suspicious of my fellow man.
Scratch that. I’ve been suspicious for awhile, but now I’m downright cantankerously dismissive. Thursday afternoon as I waited rather impatiently to be pumped full of drugs I was a captive audience for CNN. They were, of course, doing a story on the Jena 6.
What got me was that CNN was doing their “you call and tell us what you think” segment, with input from real people (who are obviously not gifted at writing for television.) One of the Real People who goes to school at Tulane–or so he said–sounded positively orgasmic.
This is the Selma of [His] Generation!!!
We’ll of course leave aside the larger questions of the morality of beating peope mercilessly with or without provocation. Because I don’t think that was really at issue. This guy was thrilled that some Zeitgeist moment was happening on his doorstep and that he didn’t just have to read about it later. This was His Chance To Be Part Of Something.
I’ve seen it happen over and over again. People of Generations X and Y have fallen under the sway of Boomer Nostalgia and are driven to recreate Mom and Grandpa’s glory days on these lesser stages. I was in college during Gulf War I: The Phantom Menace and I swear to you that while there were a few kids there who were actually vocally anti-war it felt like more of the protesters were actually just glad to get to play Hippie Lite for a few days.
Then there was the Don’t Tase Me, Bro thing last week. So many people were talking about how Johnny Knoxville Florida’s abuse at the hands of the po-lice was This Generation’s Kent State. The turning point of turning points, etc.
If my generation had any balls, we’d come to play on our own field. But we don’t. We are the Great Mimics. We have no art, no politics, no soul which is not derivative of our parents. I hear over and over again that we will be the first generation who doesn’t make as much money as our parents. Some of that is shifting values, I’m sure. But I’m also sure that some of it is the fact that we are not able to be our own people–that we’d be happier existing as faded carbons of the folks who came before.
Next time you wear all black and write “Free The Jena 6” on the back of your hand (like the girl ahead of me at the clinic) you might want to realise that people were gassed and beaten in Selma. They put their BLOOD on the line for their beliefs. Not their wardrobe.
Our Generations have a long way to go.
Just Another Pretty Farce 
Awesome. Awesome awesome awesome.
Thank you for this. It fits my mood–I’m uber-pissed at my students, half of whom have just slept through a documentary about a survivor of the Holocaust. I’m so pissed I can’t talk to them right now (they’re answering questions on a worksheet about the film–hence my being able to check blogs on government time).
These are the same kids whom I’ve heard asking why they can’t wear black in “support” of the Jena 6. These are the same kids who bring up “what they believe in” or “standing up for themselves” anytime a teacher or administrator dare tell them they can or can’t do something.
Looking at their apathetic, lazy selves drooling through the forty minutes it would have taken to devote half of their attention to someone who ACTUALLY had REAL issues stemming from “what she believed in” lets me know exactly for what they stand.
Just lemme, as a certified Boomer, point out that back in the day, hippies ≠ New Left. Oh my, no. Different preoccupations, different styles, different attitudes, different politics. And I think that some of the kids’ confusion today may arise from the conflating of the two.
So far as being mimics, everyone (and every generation) is, to some extent. Your problem (if it is one) is to have come along at a time when mass communication is so pervasive that no one gets to invent a little local wrinkle on anything before it gets generalized all over the place.
Although I agree with the sentiment in general (I don’t agree with the absolutes – NO art? NO politics? NO soul? NONE?),
…on behalf of those who have gone before, I’d like to welcome you to curmudgeonhood. We’ll be sending you your membership card, and your first issue of In My Day (this month, the cover story is “Turn That Junk Down! You Call That Music?”)
King Solomon noticed this phenomenon 3000 years ago, and wrote a pretty good book about it. 😉
I think that there was so much more to the story than the grandstanding that drew all the protesters. Anytime that Jesse Jackson shows up, it sends up red flags in my book.
According to the snippet I heard, the kids who allegedly beat up the white kid did so after some white kids put up nooses on some tree after black kids wanted to sit under it. It seems like it’s way more complicated than that, but it probably isn’t.
Katherine, you are the Robert L. Bartley of our generation.
*raises hand to admit curmudgeon-ness* Slarti, send me my membership card! 😉
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