A Degenerative Culture Part I: Put Up Your Dukes

Everyday someone posts some new video on Facebook: some patriotic scene of a US soldier or a heart-warming tribute to some young, cancer-stricken teenager.  Or even some funny video of a monkey slinging it’s feces.  But I never click to watch.  No, there is only one type of video out there that I consistently take time out of my day to watch: fights.  That’s right.  There’s nothing like a slightly grainy video of two people throwing hay-makers until someone gets knocked out.  They take me back to my youth.  Reminds me of a better America, you know, before we became a nation full of sissies and tattle tells.  I am reminded of one of my favorite Eminem lyrics: “Whatever happened to catching a good-old fashioned passionate ass-whooping/ and getting your shoes, coat and your hat tooken?”  Yes, I long for the days when we used to stand up to bullies, even if it meant going home bloody and bruised.  At least we could look ourselves in the mirror with pride and feeling courageous.

I can remember getting jumped by two white Russian boys when I was just in the 4th grade.  There was no running. There was no crying to your parents about how so and so called you a name.  My mother worked two jobs all day and had enough to worry about raising three boys on her own.  The last thing we wanted to do was waist her valuable time talking about how some uppity kid from the hill didn’t like our Raiders jackets.  We stood there and put up our dukes like we were raised and the next day at school at least those kids knew if there was going to be a problem, physical altercation was not out of the question; make them think twice if they really want to go through all that again.  If you called me the N-word in those days, you could expect swift and violent action. No need for principles or parents or putting your business on blast on some silly Facebook post, craving for attention and asking people to like your status. No, if you had a problem with someone back then we were raised to confront them.

Here is a simple strategy that works wonders that somehow our culture has seemed to forget.  It goes: “what is your problem?”  That’s right.  If someone had a problem back then it was as easy as “hey, what’s your problem? And if it’s that serious we can go to Candy Cane park or the playground of your choice.” It was short, sweet, and effective.  If the problem they had was fight-worthy: fine.  If not, laugh it off and go on about your business.  Either option is better than being picked on and bullied.  We were boys raised to be men then; before Progressives hi-jacked society with their “social constructs” of “masculinity.”  Our father’s would be proud win or lose.  If we won: “great! Son, give me details.”  If we lost, at least we stood up for ourselves.  You see, that was the lesson.  Standing up for yourself and not allowing a teacher or principle to do it for you.

Now we live in an age where kids are taught NOT to confront bullies and face their problems.  The line to the principal’s office is a mile long of students complaining how so and so made fun of their hair, personality, or clothes.  And next to that is the mile-long line to the counselor’s office with student’s waiting to explain how they are so “different.”  Everyday some outcast teenager feels isolated and tormented by those around them. But do we teach them to confront the problem? Oh no, instead they go home and play video games and sing along to Drake songs about how lonely and depressed they are until they explode and do more harm than if they would have just taken the 10 minutes to confront the person straight up.  If that ended up in a physical altercation so be it.  But at least you could walk around with some pride.  When did we start raising a nation full of snitches and Facebook muppets?

The cultural advantages of fighting and confronting problems head-on are priceless.  Fighting, like wrestling, is the original sport of man.  It teaches us values and develops our character.  We can never rid ourselves of bullies and tattle tales don’t make the situation better, they make it worst.  Most bullies won’t even listen to reason.  Physical altercations are all they understand, and being a snitch doesn’t curb their behavior, it intensifies it.  It’s a classic case of: “Oh, you went and told the principal on me?”  Thus, the bully is no longer angry at the individual person, they get upset at a culture and society that allows tattle tells to win and rewards kids for running away from their problems. That somehow running from your problem and waiting for some adult to come to your rescue is ok.  Well it’s not.  And it is in all of our best interest that it remains this way

The underlying problem here is mainly fear.  A fear of confronting your own problems.  Fear of declaring your own moral and personal shortcomings.  Fear of being rejected.  Fear of the unavoidable pain.  Fear of getting an ass-whooping!  But with every ass-whooping comes a grain of truth and dignity.  We are all capable of getting our ass-whooped on occasion and nobody is ever too big or small, cute or ugly.  At some point we’ve all walked that line as to where we stop being civil and it’s “oops upside ya head.”  All capable of feeling pain.  But it makes us better people.  Most importantly it makes us stronger; teaches us our limits.  Some things are worth fighting for.  Other things you can let go.  But at least we get to learn and give it a try for ourselves.  Don’t deny our next generation of the pleasure and opportunity to catch a good old-fashion, passionate ass-whooping.

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