I remember back in Middle School our district would spend thousands upon thousands of dollars to hire this husband/wife asshole team to speak at our school. These massive assemblies incorporated the whole mess of kids all at once, and they revolved around one, life-changing theme. "You're special," these two paid speakers would exclaim over and over again. "Each one of you is a unique individual with his/her own glimmering moment ahead in life."
Really? Each one of us? That chubby marshmallow over there picking his nose and eating his boogers? Is he special? That other fellow next to him with all the name brand clothing, spiked hair, and sticker still on his baseball cap? Him too? What about Suzie? She gives great hand jobs she learned about from television. We think she's special, but the others - are you sure?
They, being the husband/wife asshole team, were sure, and for all the generations conceived that grew up in the 80s and beyond, a weird sentiment would settle into all of our brains. We were all unique, special, twinkling stars, and we deserved everything the world had to offer. For the rest of our lives this mentality would percolate in our puny brains and build up that ego, that brand of self-centered importance that led to many an average Joe spouting off his oral resume drunkenly at a public setting.
The ironic twist to this was that it wasn't just one or two people. There were a lot of "average Joes" proclaiming to the Heavens their water-chugging feats (I call it "water", they call it "light beer"). They all wore the same clothes. They all had the same interests. Their customs and manners of greeting each other, while revolving around unique statements within their genre, were all the same. Was there some kind of factory that manufactured these folks somewhere? What about the other social niches and social groups? Was there a factory for them too? While they were separate from these "average Joes", they still had their own tribal codes, ethics, and interests.
When one stumbles around an Ikea, takes a moment to view the sights, and realizes that most people are dressed the same and have the same haircuts, that person should ask him/herself one simple question: "What the fuck?"
While none of us knew it, when we were watching TV and movies, playing video games, and living the consumerist dream in America (when it still existed), our ideas, thoughts, interests, and dreams were shaped and formed. We were mindless bots that spaced out to flashing lights on a bright screen, opening up our heads to different meanings and realizations those flashing lights wanted to sell to us. It wasn't our fault necessarily. That's just the shape and nature of the human brain. All those social etiquettes, civic mannerisms, and ways in which we communicate are trained behavioral ticks that we often do merely because someone thinks it's "nice" or "polite". Our interests are no different. Sports fans aren't born sports fans, they're trained that way like lab animals.
Think about this for the time being, and we'll continue this discussion (you folks and I) tomorrow. I promise. Doktor nOnsensical isn't going anywhere.
