Bang! You’re dead! Children listen and learn. I’ve been writing about the Millennials, and the “Z” generation. Having five “Z’s” at the house for the summer, I’m observing their particular worldview which contrasts sharply from my 1955 one.
Little boys like toy guns. I’m sorry to be the first one to tell you that, I know I’m forcing a gender upon them, but that’s just me so get over it. I also buy makeup and dolls for my granddaughter, Puck. Anyway, if little boys don’t have toy guns they will find a stick, a broom or anything they can, point it, and yell, “BANG!”
Since there really aren’t any westerns on TV anymore they know nothing about cowboys and Indians. That, and coming from Box Elder County, Utah, their playmates there were REAL Indians, and to use such a scenario would be way politically incorrect. I haven’t really figured out the game they play, but basically, it involves shooting everybody. Kinda like in school. But, there are rules.
They have to fall down when someone points right at them and yells, “BANG!” Surprisingly there is an honor system here. When you’re dead, you’re dead. Of course, they get right back up, and the whole thing starts again.
Recently, during one such free for all one of the twins “threw down” on the other one. Caught dead to right, the cornered kid dropped his gun and put his hands in the air, whereupon his brother shot him. The twin did NOT fall down! All the other boys gathered around. A cardinal rule had been broken.
The supposed to be slain twin was screaming that he was unarmed, and had his hands in the air. The slayer was yelling back that it didn’t matter, dead is dead. Finally, NewBaby, the youngest, and most level-headed quoted the law. You can’t shoot an unarmed person with his hands in the air. Only cops can do that, and the shooter wasn’t playing the role of a cop!
Funny huh? The sad part is it’s true. I saw that in my yard yesterday. This is the brave new world we’ve bequeathed our children. Teachers tell mom and dad what to do, assuming there IS a dad around, nerdy homosexuals on Facebook are role models, and Officer O’Flannery has morphed into a homicidal maniac with a license to kill.
Real stuff folks. Carved in stone in a child’s mind. School shootings? Happens somewhere every day. Why are the adults surprised? The fifteen-year-old student summed it up perfectly. She knew the killer would come one day, so she had a pre-arranged place to run to, and hide. When the shots stopped she came out. Carefully of course, because she knew the real killers were on the job, and she didn’t want to be an accident. I mean it’s hard to tell the difference between a crazy-eyed punk with a gun and a beautiful girl in jeans.
Earlier I referred to the phenomenon known as the “Z” generation. There is hope people! These little fellas are between seven and eleven years old. They are growing up observing how incredibly stupid all previous generations are. That includes us, friends and neighbors. We set this dog and pony show in motion when we didn’t hang Doctor Spock.
The human mind searches for solutions. It forms completed circles. A complete circle is a solution. We’ve been going around in circles for over sixty years, and haven’t completed one yet. To the “Z” generation this makes absolutely no sense at all. They observe, adapt, improvise. Of COURSE, cops shoot unarmed people. That’s what cops do. Solution? You run when you see a cop. Sure there are school shootings. You just need a plan to survive.
One missing component in Z world is racism. There are no niggers, WOPS, pepper bellies, fat dagos or gooks. There’s just ”them,” and “us!” Uh, we’re ”them” by the way. You and I, and everyone born more than about twelve years ago. And while they won’t kill us off they WILL read our obituaries with a great deal of satisfaction.
I’m gonna prophesy here. Within five years there will be a school shooting. Kids will run, lots of screaming, then the gunfire stops. The SWAT team arrives. Racing through the halls yelling, ”SHOW ME YOUR HANDS, ” in short order students are filing out to the parking lot showing their hands. Of course, Alex Jones is there with his bullhorn calling them all crises actors.
Soon the school is empty. The officers carefully search each room, looking for the shooter. They work their way to the back of the building, eventually out to the playground. There, hanging by little girl’s jump rope around his neck that is secured to the swing set is the killer. As policemen approach they see a note, held to his chest by a Bic pen, artfully driven into his heart. The officers read, ”Circle complete!” Among over one thousand kids there are no witnesses. BANG! You’re dead!
The Butcher Shop