Wednesday, April 25, 2012


I was visiting Linda's Lou's blog (Linda Lou Live from Las Vegas) and she had a very interesting post which you should all check out.  Same sort of topic I did a while back ... basically a rant about what she calls "the pussy nation" (you gotta love her) ... children born after 1980, also referred to as "millennial children."  You know, the ones that were pampered every freaking day of their lives and now walk into the workplace demanding free time, work/life balance, big bucks and the ability to work from home in their pajamas.  The problem with this is that they are working for baby boomer bosses whose work ethic and background is radically different.  I, being a baby boomer, understand this all too well.  Unfortunately, my experience in the last 10 years has been a little different because I've had to work for these millennial brats who never learned any manners, courtesy, patience or respect for their elders and think only of themselves.  Quite a conundrum if you're a 53 year old secretary and your boss is a 28 year old with malignant narcissism and anger management issues.  These are the kids whose parents pampered, hovered, protected and always rescued them thereby producing a generation of super, coddled spawn who have never learned how to deal with the realities of life because "it's hard out there. 

When I grew up my mom and dad didn't take any lip.  Neither did teachers.  It was a different world and those in authority demanded respect.  Teachers expected you to shut up and listen or you would get humiliated in class or worse, get a swat.  AND NO ONE SUED THEM.  My 8th grade science teacher Mr. Shiyota (who I hated) once swatted a kid in class and I mention it only because I'd seen kids get swats in class but this swat was particularly sadistic.  Granted, the kid was a little gang banging pee-wee and he should have just been sent to the principal or thrown out of class but Mr. Shiyota called him up to the front of the class and in front of everyone took a wooden paddle with holes in it and swung that mother like a baseball bat right on his behind.  It made ME want to cry.  He seriously could have cracked his tailbone but that's how it was back then.  I do not want to minimize the seriousness of receiving a swat.  It was done often enough but only if you were really, really a pain in the ass.  What teachers got away with with in the 1970's is unheard of today.  We baby boomers grew up in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WORLD.  There were boundaries and you knew not to cross them.  

If you're wondering why we didn't tell our parents the teacher swatted us or yelled at us it is because THE TEACHER WAS GOD.  AUTHORITY.  YOU DID NOT QUESTION AUTHORITY.  In my day you'd get in more trouble at home for getting in trouble at school.  There were two things kids did not want to deal with in the 1960's-1970's ... FEAR and SHAME.  Fear of getting in trouble at school and shame at embarrassing your parents. This is why teachers were able to instill corporeal punishment and this was normal back then.  Parents literally gave teachers permission to discipline their kids, even physically if necessary.  Then the 1980's rolled around and it all changed.  Society became very child oriented which for those of us born in the "children should be seen and not heard" generation, it was a tad hard to swallow.  

Also in her post, Linda referenced a book called "So The Trophy Kids Grow Up" by Ron Alsop.  So I got onto Amazon and started reading an excerpt which was very enlightening.  I spent the next hour reading excerpts of other books on the same subject and inevitably another character flaw related to being a millennial child is narcissism.   Just look at Facebook, nothing but titty shots and ME, ME, ME.  It makes me ill.  Facebook is merely paparazzi for regular people and yeah I'm on Facebook too but I don't take shots of my cleavage while I lick my girlfriend's face and make gang signs.  Those born after 1980 are addicted to this shit.  When I was in school the worst thing in the world you could be called was conceited.  Today, it's an aspiration.  

There's a thin line between self-confidence and narcissism and these little twits don't know the difference.  It is mind boggling to me how self-absorbed this generation is.  They're constantly texting and taking pictures of themselves.  I wonder if any of these  little morons have ever read a book?  Just for fun, ask a 26 year old who the vice-president is ... you'll probably get a blank stare or an incredibly stupid answer like "Arnold Schwarzenegger?"  

To this day I know all my multiplication tables by heart.  Not a big deal I know but if you were born after 1980 those kids can't figure anything out without a calculator or Google.  To us that was akin to cheating.  I still know all the capitals of every state and every country.  This came from rote memorization which of course we all hated, but you NEVER forget it.  Ask a twenty-something kid what the capital of California is and I bet you a million bucks they don't know.

It is so sad this dumbing down of America by this coddled, spoiled generation.  God only knows what will happen to these selfish little babies when their parents die.  Tragic.  I feel disgusted with all of it ... *sigh*.  

Sadder still is the realization that I have now become the mean lady on the block *double sigh* ...

Cranky old bitch.   

Friday, April 20, 2012


When I was little my mom would watch Bandstand every day.  By the time I grew up it aired on Saturday mornings.  It became especially fun in the 1970's because my cousin Arnie was a regular on bandstand.  Check him out in this clip ... he's the cute guy with the white bell bottoms, light blue t-shirt and navy sweater tied around his neck, no glasses.  It may be a little confusing to spot him because at least four other guys are wearing the exact same outfit!

Looking back at this clip cracks me up because it all seems so dorky now but at the time these kids were the coolest of the cool.  If you notice, some of the girls are wearing pants under their dresses ... this was an L.A. trend.

R.I.P. Dick Clark, and thanks for the memories ...

Sunday, April 8, 2012


So I'm sitting on the couch with the TV set to QVC, Trixie is sleeping by my side and I'm playing on the internet Googling random crap like "WEHT Susan Anton?" And intermittently writing stuff for the blog and my book, which is a work in progress and I hope gets published and then optioned into a movie which then wins the Academy Award and I can retire and just write for the rest of my life and never, EVER get laid off again. 

At some point I must take a shower (it's 11:33 am) and get my ass to Cost Co. because I need paper plates and Comet and I know that I am not going to do any of this because deep down inside, I don't want to. So I jump onto Pinterest and start perusing photographs and "words of wisdom". After an hour of this I decide I better move or I'll be sitting on the couch for another hour, so I quickly jump onto Facebook and Hollye makes mention she's going to see Todd Rundgren that night and has a You Tube video of him singing "Can We Still Be Friends" so of course I have to watch it because I LOVE TODD RUNDGREN and then I'm on You Tube for another hour listening to every song he ever did and mentally going back to 1974 where I remain for another hour and a half.  

If I had a dime for every minute I've wasted perusing non-productive pleasures I'd be a billionaire. 

Monday, April 2, 2012


I don't like competition. Never have. It's everywhere of course and we must compete for every damn thing in life which I find horribly exhausting.  Even on TV that is all we see. Competition, competition, competition. You're better, you're lousy, you did it, you didn't. Eight out of 10, 2 out of 6. Scores, rates, evaluations. Dancing with the Stars, The Biggest Loser, American Idol, X Factor, even competition shows to find your future spouse (LONG, LOUD SCREAM).

I find all of this competition on TV so ironic considering how the last generation of kids were raised ... indulged, loved, encouraged, patted, petted, always got a hi 5 and a "good job!" for eating their fucken cereal. Oy.  Let's go back to my childhood when kids were kids and adults were adults and no one gave a crap how a 10 year old felt. IT BUILT CHARACTER PEOPLE!

1966. Me, Arnie, Georgie and Eddie sitting on the curb outside staring at the Sun to see who could do it the longest. After burning our retinas out we decided to have a screaming contest. After three minutes of screaming Tia Chata comes outside in her house dress and a cigarette screams louder than the four of us together ....


NOTE: She didn't think someone had been hurt, run over by a car, or lost an eye. All she knew was that we were bugging the shit outta her and she had HAD IT. These were the moms in the 1960's. They didn't care about about our fragile little egos. If we lost a game and started crying we didn't get medal for "participating" ... a mom would just bark something like "don't be such a crybaby! Go outside and play dammit!" then back in the house she'd go as she took another drag on her cigarette.

And we were okay with that. No one grew up psychologically damaged.
No o
ne was ruined for life. We bounced back just fine and figured out another game to play ... "I know you guys ... let's play parade!" This game consisted of sitting on the curb and clapping every time a car drove down the street. And this was a shitload of fun to us. If our parents were like parents today they would have been gushing and oohing over our brilliant, creative little minds and would somehow turn that into a scholarship to university because the child showed inherent ability to moderate the flow of traffic at different times during the day which would then allow for a psychological profile of not only drivers, but bystanders as well, and then a study would prove that ....*#*@&p)!!!!!  It's so damn insane.

Have you seen the Super Nanny?  Yet another reality based program that helps parents learn how to parent ... don't even get me started.  I happened to catch an episode once. What a disaster.  The kids in this particular family ran the entire household and the mom and dad were completely useless. In one unbelievable incident little Johnny was screaming his head off having a conniption fit because he didn't want to drink his milk unless he was able to do so while sitting on his dad's shoulders. Next shot:  kid sitting on dad's shoulders calmly drinking his milk. O.M.G.

This would NEVER happen at our house.  

Manzanar Avenue, circa 1965.  If one of us didn't want to something my dad would proceed to take his belt off with a menacing sneer "orale veras!" (translation: you're gonna do exactly what I tell you to do you little bastard or else!) No bargaining, no reasoning, no B.S. You know why? BECAUSE HE WAS THE DAD AND YOU WERE THE KID. Period. End of story.

I can recall many a madcap chase through the house mom yelling "don't run away from me you little shit!For years I thought that was my name.  And forget the world's greatest pitchers ... Mexican mother sitting on a couch ... my mom could throw a brush and make it round a corner and cock you right on the back of your head.  Swear.  

*SIGH* ... how I long for those good old days when kids were kids and adults were adults.  Kids today won't have stories like mine.  They're all so loved and well adjusted and brimming with self-esteem.  It's just not right I tell you. 


(The above story is told with love, humor and sarcasm.  Not meant to endorse throwing a brush at or cursing at your child.  Those of you born before the 1980's will probably relate.  What are you childhood memories?  Did your mom every throw a brush at you?)