The Wussification of America
By: Patti Bankson
We’ve all heard the story about how a frog willingly commits suicide: If you bring a pot of water to the boiling point, and drop the frog into the boiling water, it will, allegedly, jump out and save itself from certain death. However… if you put a pot of cool water on the stove, put the frog into the water, and, then turn on the stove, letting the water (and the frog) slowly come to a boil, it’s all over for the frog and, and voila’… Frog Legs for dinner.
Perhaps you’ve always believed that’s just a gross story about cooking poor, defenseless, little frogs… if so you’ve missed the point, and have probably already joined Mr. Froggie in the slowly warming water, and the two of you are just sitting there sharing a little spa time… clueless.
Really, that’s a story about us… humans, in the U.S.It’s a story about our leaders filling up pots, putting them on the stove, and insisting that we jump in, while they start turning up the heat… whether we like it, or not, whether we want to, or not. Of course, it’s never just about $$, or power… No, no, no. It’s about what they think is good for us… after all, we know nothing. They know everything. And they are determined that we’ll live our lives their way, or else. How did this happen? Maybe the answer is as close as a mirror.
Nobody wants bad things to happen; not to themselves, their loved ones, or their neighbors. Not to adults, or to children. But, when did we become such a society of whimpering, whining wusses… a culture of control freaks who have been allowed to believe that we should be able to live our entire lives without pain, physical or emotional.
That’s why all participants in a sport get a trophy. They may have spent the season picking their noses on the sidelines, but, by golly… they “deserve” a trophy. That’s why sports like Dodge Ball have been banned from school playgrounds. That’s why toddler play areas are constructed of cushy stuff, that doesn’t hurt as much when they fall. That’s why school lunches have become a nightmare to all concerned: the mother packing the lunch, the cafeteria serving one, or the kid eating one… because it must meet somebody’s nonsensical “standards”.
That’s why “those in charge” are deciding whether growing up, and working, on a family farm is an acceptable risk… (do they mean compared to… urban “mean streets”?) That’s why dogs don’t ride in the back of pick-ups… why children are “tied down” in the car… why chicken nuggets is “healthier” than a home-made turkey and cheese sandwich. That’s why illegals are merely “undocumented”… that’s why we have political correctness gone amok… (sigh). How did a whole generation, or two, or three, manage to survive?
Well, we survived just fine, thanks… got hurt, got taken advantage of, sometimes… took advantage of someone else, sometimes… shed some tears, suffered some scrapes and cuts… a few insults, and our share of scraps… rough and tumble, maybe… hair-raising for parents? Yes, that, too. But, boy, did we have the time of our lives… boy, did we have a childhood!
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