From Gen-X to Generation Creampuff

While walking through the grocery store the other day, I noticed a changing trend in certain areas of parenting that really raised my unibrow.  An unruly child of around 6-7 years was running around mercilessly while grabbing products off of shelves, screaming, and overall being a little brat.  The little bastard almost ran into my shopping cart and then proceeded to block my path to the tub of lard or whatever unhealthy food I was aiming to get that day.  When I saw the little whipper snapper's mother, she had no interest in what her child was doing or who this kid was disturbing.  It brought back memories of my youth when a nice stern ass whooping could be administered anytime and most certainly anywhere.  Back in my childhood, if an observing mother saw a spanking being given to a misbehaving child, that mother more than likely made sure her kids were watching as an example of what would happen if they acted up.  Nobody called 911, Child Protective Services weren’t involved, and the disciplined kid probably wouldn't pull another stunt like that again.   I seem to recall that my uncle, who raised me during these times, always wore the right sized pants, but had his belt on as a deterrent to bad behavior for us.  This made me wonder about a few things.  Are we as parents being too soft on our children?  Are we raising our kids to be a bunch of cry babies who would rather talk to a counselor or lawyer to solve their problems than solve them on their own?  The common measure to install discipline in a child these days is to put them in "time out".  First of all, I would have given up just about anything as a kid to be put in time out over a visit with the belt any day.  I'm not saying that this method doesn’t work but what would you rather face as an adult; the electric chair or a little time in a jail cell?  I also seem to remember as a kid that when we were sent outside to play or ride our bikes, we didn’t have to put on battle armor to do these activities.  If you see any kid riding a bike nowadays you can be positive that they will have a helmet on with knee pads, elbow pads, shin guards, mouth piece, neck brace, flashlight, and anything else to protect them should they fall.  Are we sending them out to ride a bike or joust?  Are they gonna slay a dragon at the end of their journey?  I took my lumps with the best of them and we had the solution for any spills or falls I took.  It was a package of band-aids and some hydrogen peroxide.  Remember, scars define you.   They also lead to great stories of how you got them.  For me, the worst example of bringing up a super soft society is happening in the youth sports world.  Basic adopted rules over the years have insured that every player on the team plays in every game and everyone receives a trophy at the end of the season.  You have got to be kidding me.  For us, if you sucked at the sport you kept the bench warm for the good players. That was your job on the team.  You showed up to practice, made an ass of yourself, and the coach made sure you wouldn't play on game day.  I know kids that got more action on picture day than any other time in the season.  I'm pretty sure they were only let on the team to sell candy bars during fund raising time.  Then, at the end of the season if your team wasn't good, you watched the good teams get a trophy and gloat while you prepared for the next sport to come around.  There was no E for effort.  There was no gold star for playing.  As we move forward and as birth control becomes as irrelevant as a cassette tape, take a pledge to make sure your kids have what it takes in this dog eat dog world. It's tough out there.  They need to know that in the real world, there is no trophy for second place.  Give them the tools to not accept failure as an option.  Make them tough enough to face the battles that are ahead of them.  Most of all, let’s give the belt the respect it deserves.  Let it do the job that the sadistic leather smith truly intended it to do.  Before you do, let me suggest that it's done in the privacy of your own home where a phone isn't available.  Happy parenting!      

The Stereotyping Mind of a Wal-Mart Greeter

A few years ago I discovered a disgusting trend in my daily life.  It seemed that everytime I walked into a Wal-Mart store I was never greeted by the person at the door who's sole reason for being employed by the company was to greet every customer at the door as they walked in to spend their hard earned pay.  As I started paying closer attention, I was also appalled to find that said greeter would ask to see my reciept as I left the store every time I left.  I kept tabs from then on to make sure it wasn't all in my head  and I would ask anyone I was with to observe.  The greeter never failed me, until one day I called one of the blue haired, blue vested, older than dirt bastards out.  As I was walking out, the authority of the door asked to see my reciept as usual.  I had just noticed that this was not asked of the couples that had exited before me so I asked why she didn't feel it was necessary to look my direction or say hello as I walked in.  She stuttered like Mel Tillis to get an answer out when I asked if it was because of my tattoos.  Still, no answer.  I asked if it was the way I dressed.  She started sweating like a teenage boy who's girlfriend missed a period.  I walked out without waiting for whatever made up answer the lady was gonna come up with before she had a heart attack.  I vowed that the next time this particular lady didn't say hello to me in a sincere manner, I was breaking someones hip.  Fast forward a few years to a swanky neighborhood grocery store.  My fiance' and I were looking for a particular bottle of wine to go with our dinner.  We got to the section of the store where the wine was sold and split up to find it.  One of the employees had a little table set up and was handing out samples of wine to the customers.  As I walked by, she didn't even try to make eye contact with me.  She offered everyone in front of me and behind me a sample so I purposely walked by her again, this time much slower.  She looked at me that time and gave a little half ass smile.  I walked by a third time and when I wasn't offered a sample I asked her why she hadn't offered one to me.  She was as surprised as someone getting walked in on while masturbating.  She nervously poured me a sample and handed it to me.  Her hands were shaking like Michael J. Fox's as she tried to keep the smile on her face.  I drank it like any good alcoholic would and told her that I was very impressed with it.  I asked her to hand me a bottle so I could buy it and as she did, I discovered that it was the wine that my fiance' and I had been looking for the whole time.  When asked why she didn't offer me some in the first place she replied "I didn't think that a man would like this particular wine."  It just goes to show you that one CANNOT judge someone by their appearence, sex, lack of appeal, or any other superficial factors.  These are just a few examples of what I feel that I go through on a daily basis.  It is a lesson that I wish was installed in everyone for many aspects of life.  Until the message gets through, I will continue my crusade of calling out those who don't treat everyone equally.  So if you hear of a man in Maryland who has a Wal-Mart greeter's shoe permanently planted in his ass, it was probably me picking a fight with pops cause the son of a bitch didn't say hello.

The Fine Line Between a Hooters Girl and a Stripper

In our testosterone driven world, sex sells.  Everywhere you look, sex appeal dominates all aspects of entertainment, advertisement, and everything else in between.  When it comes to catering to the male ego and sex drive nobody does it better than a strip club.  Recently, there has been an emergence of family oriented establishments that have pushed the envelope of the appeal of man all the while maintaining a squeeky clean image.  How is this possible?  I had to ask the question;  what is the difference between a dingy, dirty, and socially unacceptable strip club as opposed to Hooters, the Tilted Kilt,  Bikinis, or other english pub themed restaraunt?  I am going to compare any average strip club in America to the lead dog of the industry, Hooters.  I've once written that the only difference between a Hooters girl and a stripper is when the Hooters girl tells you she's doing her job to get through college, she's not lying.  Although that is typically true, what seperates the help at either place?  Both types of girls are doing the same thing; using their sex appeal for tips.  They're both trained to give the customer a false sense of security whithin their walls.  Both prey on the vulnerable and cater to the needs of the man.  The only goal of both types of women is to get as much money out of the customer by using what God gave them physically.  You could be the crustiest looking guy on the planet and get treated like a king at both places.  It all comes down to that paper or card in your wallet that makes a working woman happy.  Although the attire is a little different, its not all that far off.  Aside from some nail polish or pasties around the nipples on a stripper, both workers wear things that leave little to the inagination of the customer.  Both business's target attractive, slender, well endowed woman to represent them.  The client base of each is where the differences start.  The same parents who block R rated movies from their kids are the ones who spend countless hours at the local Hooters.  Its a happy medium.  The dad is able to treat his family with a sub-par meal all while guzzling cold beer and eyeballing attractive women while jr. shoves chicken wings down his throat.  Little Suzy has ambitions of wearing the orange ass bearing shorts while earning a living.  The winner in this scenario is mom.  Mom shows the world that she is secure enough to accompany her man in a place that is surrounded by temptation.  These are probably the same women that won't go to the adult toy store to buy a vibrator but has no problem buying that industrial size  back massager cause her muscles hurt.  I'm willing to bet that 99 percent of these massagers get stored in the nightstand right next to the bed.  I mean, we all know that muscles only ache when your in bed, right?  Sure, you cant take little Suzy to the steak and fries lunch special at a men's club but why is it alright to take her to a place where she's surrounded by horny men that drink lots of beer and women  that wear booty shorts and skin tight shirts?  Although the Hooter's girl probably isn't doing drugs in the dressing room before showtime, both girls' rent and bills are due all the same.   My point is, society shouldn't point fingers at the adult industry when mainstream business's are guilty of the same thing.   By crossing a few more T's and dotting a few more I's they seperate themselves as family restaraunts.  I ask of everyone, the next time you see a stripper, hand her that dollar from jr's college fund with pride and not shame.  She may have tattoos and 3 kids but when it comes to her heart, she's in it for the same reason as the waitress at Hooters.

Fashion – an Outside Perspective

Fashion is something that I've never understood.  I always had a hard time keeping up with the latest trends and more than likely couldn't afford them anyway.  My mom spent countless hours trying to get me to mix up my threads to fit in with what "they" were wearing.  I never understood who "they" were so I never gave a second thought to throwing on a pair of faded denim jeans, a T-shirt with a band logo on it, and a pair of tennis shoes. Black has always been my preference of color or lack thereof.  If I don't look like I’m attending a funeral or a heavy metal concert, I have a hard time leaving the house.  Throughout the years, I’ve seen the trends and styles change so often that I couldn’t keep up.  My style never changed but somehow always stayed relevant.  This is a look back at the fashions I wished I had, missed, and overall am glad I didn’t subscribe to.  I remember when Swatch watches were the thing to have. They were so expensive but very desirable to my age group.  I couldn’t wait till my birthday or Christmas to get one so I could strut the halls of my school and show the world that I belonged.  I had plans to put the little rubber protector on the outside of it like the elite popular kids did to distinguish themselves.  When Christmas came and I got a Mickey Mouse watch, it started a long list of fashions I wouldn’t be a part of.  About the time that all girls wore poufs in their hair, the mullet was the hairstyle of choice for guys.  I had to do it!  The length of the mullet was equal to how high a girl could get the poof to stand up.  A girl with enough hairspray could scrape the texture off of a ceiling with her pouf.  All a guy had to do was grow the length of the back of their hair while keeping the rest looking like a military cut.  Mine failed miserably.  I looked like I had an afro made of Brillo pad mixed with a bird's nest in the back.  There was no way I could shave lines into that bush when that became popular!   I tried the turtleneck when it was stylish.  Since I have no neck I ended up looking like an uncircumcised penis.  I couldn’t afford Hypercolors when it boomed.  I would see everyone touching these ridiculous shirts that changed colors by the heat of your hand, roll my eyes, and secretly be envious that it wasn’t me being touched.  Instead of Bugle Boy, Pepe, Z. Cavaricci, or Girbaud jeans I had Levi's.  Guess jeans came and went but by the time I could afford them, they were out of style.  I missed out on the Mossimo, Stussy, and Yaga cursive logo on the T-shirt trend. I watched the surf shop fashion line pass me by.  I didn’t even know what Bo-Jons, Ron-Jon, or whatever else-Jon was so I had no desire to show off that brand.  I wore Reebok pumps and thought my time had come.  Those lasted a little longer than a Viagra pill's effectiveness. Doc Martins came and went with the grunge movement and I have to say, looking back, they were pretty damn ugly.   My high school tried to throw a curve ball at me once and changed the dress code.  As our entire class was addressed about the changes it was stated that shirts would not be allowed to have band logos on them anymore.  One of my classmates said "Well, there goes Chris Gonzales' wardrobe" and received a huge applause.  It made me feel about two inches tall.  What the classmate did not realize was that I had slaved all summer working for my aunt’s landlord earning the money I would need to purchase my band T-shirts, cheap jeans, and tennis shoes.  My mom, a single parent, worked hard to make ends meet for my sister and me so I did my best to help out where I could.  It was a lesson in humility, but looking back, I wanted all those brands and trends so I would fit in. I'm glad I missed these silly expressions of style.  You see, my style or lack thereof remained relevant throughout my life.  I can't say that about what the popular kids were wearing.  These days, you won’t find me in an American Eagle, Hollister, or Aeropostale store for the same reason.  I have decided to follow the "hipster" movement at my age and only time will tell how that works out for me.   So, the next time you think about judging a person by what they wear or don’t wear, just remember you may wear the "in" thing at the moment, but more than likely we will look back and realize that most of it was/is pretty damn ridiculous.