“Here’s your monkey, what’s your hurry?”

“Socialism is storming back because it has formed an incisive critique of what has gone wrong in Western societies. Whereas politicians on the right have all too often given up the battle of ideas and retreated towards chauvinism and nostalgia, the left has focused on inequality, the environment, and how to vest power in citizens rather than elites (see article). Yet, although the reborn left gets some things right, its pessimism about the modern world goes too far. Its policies suffer from naivety about budgets, bureaucracies and businesses.” Millennial socialism from the Feb. 14th, 2019 edition of The Economist

“Mini-culture? Micro-culture? They have a million hyphens over there at Time Incorporated.” George Carlin

“Macroeconomic historian Christina Romer, a Great Depression expert, became the chief advisor of president Obama.4 Indeed, Barry Eichengreen, himself an expert on financial crises in history, started his 2011 presidential address by saying that “’This has been a good crisis for economic history.’” Ran Abramitzky

“New Bruce will be teaching political science – Machiavelli, Bentham, Locke, Hobbes, Sutcliffe, Bradman, Lindwall, Miller, Hassett, and Benet. In addition, as he’s going to be teaching politics, I’ve told him he’s welcome to teach any of the great socialist thinkers, provided he makes it clear that they were wrong.” Bruce, University of Wallamaloo

“Delete whatever didn’t get enough likes. On bad hair days, photograph your food. Buy from ethical companies unless you can’t find what you want, in which case, buy from Amazon. Throw your material possessions away like it’s a cardinal virtue. Hate scroll down the Facebook feed of an acquaintance who’s more successful than you. Avoid catching feelings for anyone or anything.” From First World Solutions by Kawai Shen

“Why, Sir, I am a man of the world. I live in the world, and I take in some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. Your father is a Judge in a remote part of the island, and all his notions are taken from the old world. Besides, Sir, there must always be a struggle between a father and son, while one aims at power and the other at independence.” Dr. Johnson

Blondie and Dagwood in The 21st Century

It’s been some time between posts, but for good reason.

Once again we’re going the long way around the park.

Years ago Mom went to some corporate training which included what to do if someone tried to take the monkey off of his or her back and put it on yours. Using a firm but gently manner Mom mastered the technique of telling people, “OH MY! What a lovely monkey! Is it yours? So adorable, really I flattered, but I just can’t bring myself to separate you from your darling monkey!”

Over time she’s jettisoned whatever phrase the corporate trainers used and adopted the phrase, “Here’s your monkey, what’s your hurry?” Sadly, her technique has gotten quite a workout over the last couple of weeks. The number of people with monkeys reached a point where we almost had to start forming a line. But Mom handled it quite well using a great deal of what Joe Bob Briggs might call non-gratuitous monkey-fu.

Now that the monkey assisted nuisances have all been beaten back we can get on with the pressing issue of the day.

WHAT IS IT WITH THE KIDS THESE DAYS?

Since the start of the year there’s been plenty of content and much hand-wringing over the Millennials thinking that there’s nothing wrong with socialism. There’s lots of theories about how they’ve never known the abundance of jobs and cheap credit their parents had. That gets coupled with the last recession being burned into their brains at an impressionable age.

Is it true?

Maybe.

But rather than examine all the points that have been made in the past several weeks I’m going to take a different approach, an approach worthy of a crotchety old man with a blog.

I’m going to ask, “Where were the parents?”

And that involves history.

You gotta remember the Millennials parents were not born on the front end of the Baby Boom. The average Millennial’s parents met and settled down in an America that had worked hard to forget the 60s ever happened. They met and mingled when the fern bar was an endanger species. In it’s place came a series of watering holes with names that were about as woke as a Mr. Magoo cartoon. Friday evenings were spent at some bar named Jose Muldoon’s or Flannery O’Chang’s. Instead of the faux Currier-and-Ives fern-bar decor these places looked like one of those antique barns you see off to the side of some rural patch of asphalt. The walls were covered with old stop lights, horse collars, and metal signs for oil companies that no longer existed. Here they flocked in great numbers always wearing their best Miami Vice pastel jackets. Looking over the menu they rolled their eyes in delight at the thought of sharing a Cheese Stuft’d (sic) Deep Fried Baked Potato with friends. Next you washed it down with a signature cocktail that had a name like names like The Huli Huli Volcano or a Crazy Kanaka, either of which had all the charm of so much Del Monte fruit cocktail run through a blender.

Interaction with such food and drink served rough the same function as those birds who show off their plumage when they’re ready for courtship. Beer didn’t come in 31 flavors back then so if you sucked on suds you were moved off to a romance waiting list. God forbid you should be seen drinking something relatively adult (e.g. Chivas on the rocks) as you would then be regarded as little better than Stalin having a bad hair day.

From this gene pool modern America was forged.

Some of you are looking back at all that and are saying, “Sure, the takes us from genetic pairing to the moment of birth, but what about the socialization of these children?”

Good point.

Anyone who has had children around the house knows that you spend a great deal of time driving them around. The Millennials were no different. Hour after hour they sat in the backseat while the parents left the radio on continuously while they drove. That’s how the average Millennial heard one morning zoo or another shout TGIF!! repeatedly and beg listeners to crank it up and sing along as we learn that everybody’s workin’ for the weekend. Hour after hour the kids learned that life exists between 5pm on Friday and 7am on Monday. The rest was drudgery. Of course as they got older and were able to read the parents gave them the Harry Potter books to read. While it kept them quiet in the backseat it also taught them that anything you need in this life can be had by waving a stick around.

Now some of you are asking, “Shouldn’t you be blaming the media instead?”

No, because that’s the coward’s way out.

Look, the parents could have handed those kids See you at the Top by Zig Zigler. Instead of FM radio Mom or dad could have shoved a cassette containing the combined wisdom of Norman Vincent and Emma Peale. They could have said they met at the opera instead of telling the kids about all those great times ON THE WEEKEND when they are knocking back Kahlua Kahunas at Chin Ho Kelly’s.

So the question stands, “Where were the parents?”

Besides the media get blamed for enough (See Also: non-gratuitous monkey-fu) and if I’m gonna keep up my bitter old crank credentials that means I’m going to have to spend some time blaming the parents.

Speaking of parents and children –

“None of you seem to understand, I’m not locked in here with you, you’re locked in here with me.” Walter Joseph Kovacs AKA Rorschach

Luckily for us we have a Millennial to consult, Alaska Wolf Joe. That means we can resort to that lazy-ass tv news habit of find one person from a given group and holding that person up as what all people in the group are all about.

So what is he up to?

Like Diogenes he’s taken up a lamp and held it up to his own ilk as he searches for the elusive Millennial socialist. So far he’s found one who seems to be out of the country and several others with socialist leanings (i.e. more medium rare than pink) who are in dire need of a nap. Meanwhile he’s sorting out where the AOC fans, Bernie Bros, and others feeling’ the Bern fit into this larger scheme.

He has discovered a group of self-styled anarchists. Here the self-styled is not being used so much in a cynical sense as its use is to show what AWJ described as a lack of thorough thinking on the anarchists part. I asked him how he’s getting along with the anarchists to which he said, “They asked me what my political views were and I told them I was a Rawlsian-Marxist.

What a wonderful term, devious as it is succinct.

It serves as inside joke, shit disturber, and ink-blot test all at once.

Must be something he gets from his mother’s side of the family.

And with that let’s all put down our Pineapple Luas and dance.