Thursday, August 31, 2006


Recently there was a discussion on a group blog about family matters. This blog, The Corner at NRO, usually deals with national and world matters of great import. It was funny to see how poorly they understood family matters.

I t seems the daughter of a friend of one of the contributors had met a sad end because she had married a ne’er-do-well. This started a round of comments mainly, or perhaps exclusively, among the men on the blog. The result of all that deep thinking by deep thinkers was you should not let your daughter associate with losers.

Yeah, right.

As the epitome of “loser” during my youth, I strongly resent that conclusion.

I suspect that none of those contributors to that blog lived what Americans would call a ‘normal life’ in their youth. Either that or they have no recall of their youth. When I was a kid I, and all the other kids, knew that parents were pretty easy to deceive.

Here’s an example taken from real life: A pretty girl moved into my neighborhood. A friend and I (we were 14 or 15) decided to go meet her. Much to my surprise, my friend got all slicked up, shiny shoes and everything. I went in my everyday terminally scruffy outfit, torn tennis shoes and everything.

The father intercepted us before we could meet the girl. The pre-interview lasted real quick for me. My losin’ ass was out of there in a flash. This father could tell a winner from a loser. He was right. My friend had won the girl’s virginity inside of a month. It would have taken me years.

My friend was the “Eddie Haskell” type. Most of the Eddie Haskells of the world succeed really well with parents, unlike the character played by Ken Osmond in Leave it to Beaver. Parents eat that shit up.

Do I sound bitter?

Of course I’m bitter. To this day I have never learned the social skills that my teenage friend had back then. But I had my life and he had his. He wound up owning a service station back in the old neighborhood. My life is mostly recorded here.

Here’s another example: In my twenties I fell in love. I had a rival for the lady’s affection. He was a university graduate and a member of the US Olympic Team that was competing that year. I was a high school dropout and had a low paying job in surveying. Can you guess how her family advised her? Right. I lost out and went on to overseas work.

I saw her recently and found how it turned out. He had treated her horribly, had bailed out on her and their four kids and, when he died destitute, left her deeply in debt.

(No, I did not do a dance in front of her. I waited until later. I am compassionate.)

These are just a couple of stories that involved me. I could go on because I had a life and remember stuff. The point being that all those deep thinkers at NRO either didn’t have a youth or can’t remember it.


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