Virtually Alive (or Almost Living)

Do you remember that 1990's (or was it 1980's?) dish soap commercial that proclaimed that it had the effect of making your dishes "virtually spotless"? I know what "spotless" means. Spotless does not require qualification. Dishes are either spotless or they are not spotless. If they have been washed and are only "virtually spotless", doesn't that mean that they are "almost clean"?

I think this advertising slogan transports well to the current state of affairs here in America, Canada, and much of Europe. We are very much like the dish soap. Only we have come to be "Virtually Alive". Our experience with life comes at the receiving end of a computer or TV screen (says the blogger as he writes on his laptop. Oh well, I would have used a typewriter, or maybe even a quill pen, but the upload is a pain in the neck with these writing instruments) and the steering wheel of an automobile.

I belong to a number of "Groups" on Facebook. I have come to an unpleasant conclusion. The homesteader group members don't homestead, the car enthusiasts never turned a wrench, the cooking group members order takeout, and the horse group members never shoveled manure out of a barn. Any rational examination would lead any reasonable person to conclude that we are virtually alive. Almost living. Almost helping our friends and family like a real community would (we are too far away and far too busy.) Almost maintaining a healthy weight (not really). Almost happy (with the help of our meds). The one thing we are not "almost doing" is being angry. We got that one.

When Jack Lalane, America's first fitness guru, was 90 years old, he told an interviewer that he had sex "almost every day: almost on Monday; almost on Tuesday; almost on Wednesday..."

Today, our young people can't have sex without a signed legal form and a video shoot of the event. As a result, they are almost having sex (porn). Culturally, we had a "safe harbor" for sexual relations. It was called "marriage". Certain political special interest groups hated the idea of marriage and of any responsibility for the sexual needs of one's partner—but outrageous divorce settlements, alimony, and "child support" that is not earmarked for the children are OK, coal miners being nearly 100% male and 92% of workplace fatalities being male are OK, too—but we need more females in leadership roles. And, predictably, now we have no real "marriage"—and no children. As a result of this and some other disastrous inputs, we have simply stopped producing children. Forget the Feminist political battles. Forget the gender war. Without children, there is no future. In 30 years childless Feminists are going to be stacked up like cordwood in nursing homes—guess who is going to pay for that—and no one is coming to visit. No one is going to care about them because the only people who care about old people are their family. When they (the government) finally plants these gender warriors in the ground (more likely they will be cremated) no one is going to mourn them or miss them. It will be as if they never existed at all. Perhaps it is better that way.

Pity the only children of the one-and-done and divorced—they have no idea what family even means. But pity their mothers more. The Old Lady gave it a shot, but fell into the Feminist trap and filed for divorce, only to find that replacing the Old Man was not as easy as it once was, and there is no substitute for family. Old age is awfully lonely without family, clan, and community—even when the government takes over the role of the man of the house. And that corporate gig? Corporations (and your co-worker "family") are not interested in people over 50 any more than anyone else is.

I wrote an article over a decade ago where I pointed out to my contemporaries (I am now in my late 50's) that many of us are not going to have grandchildren because we drank the kool-aid and raised our children to be good corporate drones/angry Feminists/virtue signaling do-gooders rather than well-adjusted, productive, and fecund adults. At least once a month I speak to an old friend, many of whom were distressed by that article, who are now confiding in anguish that their youngest daughter just turned 30 without a grandbaby in sight. I guess when we are in our 60's and 70's we can put our kids' business cards or their prestigious college diplomas in frames over the fireplace.

Recently, I challenged a number of Liberal philosophers to conduct a thought experiment:

Take 150 childless Feminists or LGBTVQRS people and *give* them a tropical island paradise. Give them everything they could possibly need and in exchange they will keep a detailed daily diary. Come back in 40 years or so, or upon the death of the last surviving member and read the diaries of the last 15. What do you think the last several years of entries have to say?

All of the political nonsense we are enduring will pass just as surely as these gender warriors will pass. Don't drink the kool-aid. Misery loves company. (Have you ever met a happy, well-adjusted Feminist?) Live—not virtually live—while you can. Have children. Be a good parent—that is a real virtue. Your parents want and deserve grandchildren—and you will too. There are seasons in life, and when they pass, there is nothing to be done about it. It is much later than you think.

And if it is too late for you personally, you could always invest in the future of someone near and dear to you.