A fitting sequel to my “Andrew Jackson RIP” post and end-of-America-as-we-know-it rants comes a story about how the Boy Scouts of America has banned squirt-gun fights. They have also regulated the size of water balloons.
If you are young, forgive an old timer who is hearkening back to a forgotten era. Back in the day, before the pussification campaigns, the cartoons I watched were more pure entertainment, like Bugs Bunny. In a typical episode, Elmer Fudd would hunt Bugs in order to turn him into rabbit soup. Bugs would continuously escape Elmer by outsmarting him.
Yes, there was “violence,” but somehow we knew that we were not really supposed to give people exploding cigars. And, yes, I confessed to being influenced by all this to point of occasionally taking my BB gun and making less-than-serious attempts to hit birds. Honestly though, when I went deer hunting with my cousins, I was appalled at the slaughter. I did eat the deer, however.
If there was a “lesson” in these old-school cartoons, it was that there were bad people in the world and that you couldn’t reason with them. You could only use your wits to stay one step ahead of them.
I shouldn’t even mention dodge ball in today’s world. Frankly, I was devastating to my opponents. They would tremble in fear, and I showed no mercy.
I really hesitated to look, but sure enough the nannies have managed to widely ban this fine sport in schools as well, effectively labeling it as “bullying.” Tag is gone, too, as it eliminates slow kids quickly. Yes, I was fast as well back in the day. Nearly all the games I grew up playing and excelling at are gone, as you will see in this video run down.
The fact that my own son was skilled in the art of snowball fighting was a source of great pride for me. In a truly memorable father-and-son moment and after having been plastered upside the face, I actually had him give me instructions on proper technique. At age 40, I learned how to correctly throw baseballs from him and became quite the ticket on softball teams.
I remember playing musical chairs as a kid. That was real survival of the fittest and strongest. Yes, I must admit feeling bad (well, not really) about knocking some little girl on her ass as I maneuvered for a seat. Even so, I instinctively knew where to draw the line. If Sally had the bead on it, I graciously let her have the chair. There is a fine line between being a gentleman and a submissive pussy.
Nowadays, I understand musical chairs is non-competitive. As I reflect back on my childhood in the late 1950s and early ’60s, I can admit to being quirky, as I still am now. But I was also athletic, engaging, confident, well-liked and had enough of a moral compass not to get into too much trouble. In fact, competing and losing graciously was part of my code. In fact not winning was part of growing up and learning about the real world.
My research has revealed that name calling and calling things out are really frowned upon in today’s Brave New World. I had to research it because I don’t seek these people out socially. That would be double trouble for me, as in a weak moment with these “teachers” I might call someone a ninnie or a pussy.
I think if I were a child today, I would be unpopular, miserable, very rebellious and feeling abused. It was the opposite in my childhood. My world has been flipped on its side: For males, competing has been replaced with gaming. Testosterone is out, estrogen is in. While as before I went to the principal’s office once, today I can only imagine how bad it would be given all the feminists and reverse racists. I certainly wouldn’t have complied with squirt-gun restrictions.
I feel very sad for straight old-values boys like me. I would not want to be a father to kids in America today. And even as an older adult, I fear Hillary’s New World Order fun camps awaits the likes of me.