Week three of Corona and the “woke” generation

Third week into our Corona isolation and weird is the norm.  The epidemic is slowly revealing a generation of unable to cope with life.  The angst has reached shrill pitch and staying home is now requiring mental health “advisors”. The “woke” generation is learning a stiff lesson in accountability, responsibility, and financial inconvenience.  Stupid has peaked into hysteria.

My morning paper is cover to cover Corona.  An annoyance in itself since I keep on reading the same crap day after day.  How many times do we have to tell morons to stay home? But then how many times did we tell people that they should saved at least two months’ salary? The gizmo generation is stuck on a couch with only Sony or Apple as companionship.  Their fingers tired from texting, and brain fried by microwaves, they are itching for the outside world, suddenly realizing that they have been zombies for the best part of their lives.

My mother’s generation managed to go through WWI, Spanish flu, Polio epidemics, diphtheria, measles, mumps, chickenpox, WWII and Korea; with limited resources and sans much angst. Some of them managed to later walk on the moon. They managed to survive by sheer belief that one must plough through the bad to get to the good.  They conquered adversity like warriors not entitled twits.  I wonder what  my mother would have said if she had read that women are in total panic because childbirth “support” people have been denied access to the delivery room? Oy Vey!

My mother’s generation of women delivered millions of kids, us included, in bedrooms, barns, fields, and if lucky enough; a hospital.  Their “support” person totaled a midwife or a neighbor.  If things went well, the baby was born and the mother was up in two days cleaning the house and probably taking care of other urchins.  Often things did go bad.  But life went on.  Pragmatically and sustainably. Fast forward to my generation, when albeit conditions fared better and with more comfort, we also managed to deliver kids sans “support” persons.  We sweated, we cursed, we kicked, and we blamed the son of a bitch who put us through the hell we were going through in the first place. We all swore off sex on that delivery bed.  I could have easily reached for the nearest IV needle and stabbed anyone in the groin.  It was childbirth. The grit women were made of. What most of us boasted about. The ante we had on men. Unfortunately, today’s feminists define grit only as marching for the right to abortion in pink goofy hats. An oxymoron on resilience and courage.  We substituted our Amazonian hutzpah with political activism that is often vulgar, minute, and extremely underrated.

And so the angst continues. I sip on my coffee and gag as I read that pregnant women are now in unsolicited panic because hospitals are restricting “support” people during delivery.  So I keep on reading how In recent years hospitals started  “stork nesting” programs; allowing for  “support” people to be in attendance.  The insured have been footing the bill for people who want to feel good about themselves.  A natural process has been reduced to a another “feel good” entitlement. A generation conditioned to think that it is entitled to a life without pain, discomfort, and bad experiences. A generation totally immune to unpleasantness. I was unaware that childbirth had suddenly morphed into a team building event. Who’d have thought?

But my daily dose of nausea was not over yet. Over a bite of apple and peanut butter I discovered that we are entitled to be saved from ourselves. Bring on the morons who are stuck on cruise ships off the coast of Florida, bitching because the governor is refusing them landing.  And this is his and our problem how?  The virus has been making its party rounds since January, and seriously spreading since February.  Opting to lull on a large sea faring Petri dish  with 5,000 other morons is your problem.  That’s like knowing there are flames inside a building and you still insist on entering. My sympathy has been reduced to minus digits. Stupid is as stupid does. I personally refuse to have my tax dollars spent on saving idiots who might produce other idiots from their loins.

Corona is an eye opener.  When staying home for two weeks is psychologically damaging, then the nation’s brains we have supposedly nurtured have sprung a leak.  Trace the lack of fortitude to thirty years of telling kids that they are God’s gift to humankind.  Dumb or not, they deserve a trophy. A big pat on the back to the “equality” politically correct police who convinced parents, educators, and the easily swayed morons that everybody is equal in substance and intellect.  We raised the village idiot to the status of Einstein.  We have provided “safe spaces” for the inept, and compelled them to pursue useless “studies” that are neither marketable nor needed. Yet we failed to teach life coping mechanisms and survival skills. We have even given them “life” coaches whatever and whoever they are.  We put this crap on the forefront of our children’s lives and put common sense, discipline, will power, and disappointment on the back burner; raising a generation of idiotic self-centered weaklings.

My breakfast is over, which is my cue to stop reading more “needy” anguished garbage. I close my paper and wonder how many distraught couch potatoes are on the brink of despair.  I also wonder how many parents are tearing their hair out because they have suddenly realized that they have raised little shits (I stole that from my teacher daughter)  not shining star geniuses.  Yes, the virus might be a blessing in disguise; but for how long?

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