Say hello to my little friend

I have become my dad. I remember when he thought my interests too extreme, when decorum appeared all but lost on my generation. What were the offensive bits? I don’t remember. Comic books? TV? Mr. Bill?

This is one of a popular series on YouTube, and the dead-pan stupidity is pretty funny. It doesn’t work for me when it’s a sniper talking to himself.

Here I am freaking out about generations succeeding mine. Have I a leg to stand on? You tell me if this should be a 13-year-old’s MySpace pick. Is this what comes of already watching violent R-rated movies, and playing first-person-assassin video games like the Godfather?

Shall I describe for you the Godfather game? You’re a hood, working your way up through the ranks by doing jobs for the boss. You shoot cops, shake down merchants, and take out other gangsters, while knocking off anyone in your way. You know these games: shoot first, there is no ask-questions button on the joystick. Now say an innocent bystander witnesses your deed. You kick, punch, or knife him or her until they stop calling for help. You can shoot them if you’re not worried about drawing more attention. Makes sense of course.

The next gangland game coming up? A first-person-shooter based on Brian dePalma’s SCARFACE, which itself staged more gratuitous violence than all of Frances Coppola’s films put together. Already kids are announcing themselves entering the room, air-Uzi in hand, with heavy accent: “Say hello to my little friend!”

Snipers
Really. We have American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan picking off everything that moves through their sniper scopes. Our boys, all they can be, are shooting toddlers like they were bugs to torment, women because they can’t have them, old men out of spite, boys for sport, and babies because nits make lice.

What do we hope to be breeding?

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