There must be a vast conspiracy to create a whole generation of weak, whimpering losers (that's the most accurate word). Check out this newspaper letter blasting the Utah booze commissioner for wanting bars to "cover up" the bottles in case some featherweight crybaby is "offended" by them.
I don't know where to start. First of all, the ability of people to use basic intellectual tools like reason and logic to distinguish between things that are "their problem" and things that are "someone else's problem" is on the way out, since so many schools seem to opt for letting students "go with the flow" and decide how to educate themselves rather than sitting them down in a chair and teaching them something.
I want to meet somebody who is "offended" by a bottle of Stoli lurking out of the corner of his eye as he sits in a restaurant or bar. The real question is, who could this person possibly be having dinner with? Who wants to hang out with somebody this awful? Well, the "offended-by-the-sight-of-booze" guy is probably dining with his militant atheist friend who is shocked and appalled that his kid might have to sit in silence for a few moments at school during a prayer. Or maybe he's dining with the dumb administrator at my own old school, Shore Country Day, who decided that ALL snowball throwing shall be punishable.
You heard me. At my old school, if you are a third grade boy trying to decompress at recess with your buddies, you may not, under any circumstances, make and throw a snowball. I guess playing with toy guns or swords, like boys have done for literally thousands of years, is such an absurd idea to today's parents that if you were to bring it up, the whole place would just collapse in laughter. People would be slapping you on the back for thinking of such a hilarious, off-the-wall scenario as a little boy playing Cops & Robbers or Cowboys & Indians (er. . . maybe that's Cowboys & Native Americans. . . .).
Another possible dinner companion for this loser might be the person whose kid gets nipped at once by a Yorkshire Terrier on West Beach in Beverly Farms, where I grew up. That's right: now it is illegal to walk on the beach with your dog off-leash, year-round. If I had just bought a beautiful house in B. Farms and arrived in town with my family and dogs, and I found out that some drama queen (male or female) freaked out because a dog snarled at his kid, I would have to do what is referred to as "go ballistic."
If people who compare the U.S. to Rome are right, and our country declines and falls, I believe it will be because we have produced a whole generation of cream puffs.