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God, how I hate the Twentieth Century

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whitehouseThirty years from now, when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, “What did you do in the great World War II,” you won’t have to say, “Well… I shoveled shit in Louisiana.”

Okay I admit it: I’m old fashioned in a way. This is largely rooted in the fact I grew up on those 70’s TV shows and listened to my grandfather telling about his experiences during the Great Depression and World War II.  I try to get up to speed on modern pop culture and it just does not jive. I would rather read Shakespeare over worrying about every little detail about Kayne West’s pregnancy. My God, how times have changed.  Even on seemingly trivial matters, I differ. I prefer burlesque, brunch and my grandmother’s cooking over more modern preferences.  Then again, I knew what gestation and the menstrual cycle was before I was even 3.   If I had been a doctor, I would have been an OB/GYN.  At a time when most boys are interested in cheerleaders, I did a paper on U.S. foreign policy. I thought the cheerleaders were pretty too.  But “scoring one for the home team” wasn’t my primary occupation. Sometimes people will ask me “Why don’t you write a book?” In a culture where the average attention span is like 15 seconds? Yeah right!

I could have been a world class disc shooter, a history professor, movie maker,                          a baseball/football player (head and heart, but never enough size and talent), an astronaut, fluent in 5 or 6 languages, etc… So what the hell am I supposed to do?

I have dreamed of myself being a frontiersman, a cavalry officer, a pilot and quite a few other things.  It is just that for being a 19th-20th century man, trying to mesh into the 21st century world is the great challenge of my life. Surely God just didn’t stick in this century just to wallow around trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life. Isn’t that how our lives are? Especially for post World War II people, our lives are figured out for us by the time we come out of the womb.  Imagine being born rich and famous.

Someone like George H.W. Bush would have been fine if he had strictly been an accountant or solely determined how many automobiles we should produce every month.  But I wouldn’t want him making basic value judgments about the worth of a life.  Not everything can be translated to a ledger. His son should have gone an entirely different way that didn’t involve high finance or politics. If that had been the case, history would have been different. Imagine if someone had the gumption to kill Hitler and Stalin 10 years earlier. They probably would have been tried and convicted of murder.  But it could have prevented World War II.  But who knows for sure.

In this century, I’m beginning to realize I should be something like a scout for a professional sports team. I’m not Peyton Manning and going the route of player to Graduate Assistant isn’t feasible either.  Basically it will come down to coaching opportunities wherever I can find them and praying that one of the NFL teams that I have written to will give me an opportunity.  Times have changed and hopefully the people who run the businesses realize it.

For over a thousand years, Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a triumph – a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children, robed in white, stood with him in the chariot, or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting.”

Written by chrisforliberty

January 13, 2013 at 6:09 pm

Posted in General

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