Wisdom of The Foolish, Drunken Elders

Hey, guys. So, I was hanging out with my dad the other day. We were down the shore, and though we spent most of the weekend talking about coastal realty (*fascinating* stuff, believe me), we also took some time to discuss the world at large. We talked about the nature of man, his role in the universe, and the price of tea in places where tea is bought and sold. It was a learning experience.

I always like conversing with members of my family. We are a small group of highly opinionated weirdos. Problem is: we do not so much "converse" with each other as we do "yell like lunatics." We are a headstrong, impatient people. When there is a point to be made, it will be made. If one shows the slightest sign of hesitation, he will be cut off, talked over, or banished entirely. It is for this reason I speak like a coked-up auctioneer. As the youngest, I couldn't attain the volume necessary to command precedence in a discussion: speed was key. I had to get in and out before my dad or my sister knew what hit them. So yea, my speech patterns grew as a sort of tactical retaliation to the barrage from their side. For the most part, I was just listening in. I would mainly talk while other people paused to inhale. Oxygen intake was also key in my guerrilla oratories.

But, I don't mind. I learned a lot from my family. I never had much to say anyway. Such was the case last weekend. As I hung out on the beach with my father, it was kind of fun to listen to him hating on all the inked-up, tattoo lovers running around. He was thoroughly disgusted. And though I couldn't really agree with him, it was interesting to try to understand his point of view. We talked about why someone would ever get a tattoo. We talked about the played-out tattoos (Chinese symbols, barbed wire, hearts, stars, horseshoes). We argued about personal expression and self-respect. We discussed what such behavior says about our society. It was weird. Talking about such a dumb thing led into such strange territory.

At one point, I mentioned Foursquare. My dad said that he had heard of it. He was like, "Yeah, the thing they say is it's making it easier for criminals to know where you are. They just check your Foursquare or whatever they do and see you're in the mountains for a week and decide to break in to your home in the city." I was like "That's retarded." Then we got on this whole thing about the pros and cons of technology and the ultimate destruction of privacy. I claimed that such activity was just a new breed of the same old tricks. People are always going to be sleazy thieves, you can't live your life in fear. My dad argued that fear and reasonable concern are two different things. One should take into account the dangers of such social networking tools and use them wisely. I said that was dumb and I didn't own anything worth stealing anyway, so fuck those criminals.

He accepted my point and reminded me of something his mother used to say. My dad told me that whenever his parents went out and his mom forgot to lock the door, his dad would make a big thing about it. They'd get back and his dad would be all, "I told you to lock it on the way out! What if some one broke in?" and my grandmother would say, "[Chill daddy-o]. If someone broke in here, all they'd get is practice."

Which reminded me of the most important thing my father ever told me. One day he looked me dead in the eye and said, "Son, never fight an ugly man. He has nothing to lose." I always liked that nugget of wisdom, and it's probably the only reason I've never fought a lot of the hideous bastards I've known.

The End.