It's not a jock thing. It's an arrogant precious little a**hole who is living the best years of life at 17 thing.
This is my home turf-- at least, insofar as I can get away with considering the entire eastern end of the Rust Belt my home turf. Raised in the Monongahela Valley, would be living in Weirton but for the grace of God, living about an hour north of Pittsburgh instead.
Sports are worshipped here. But this doesn't have that much to do with sports. This has to do with a narrow-minded, hopeless, miserable society in which being a good ol' boy is prized above being a good human being...
...and in which part of the reason for the worship of sports is that it's one way you might get out of the miserable poverty trap. Wealth is worshipped nowhere so much as among people who have been taught to idolize money and power, then s**t on and left for dead by the very people they were taught to admire.
Sure don't make you want to send your kid to engineering school, I can tell you that much.
It's a sick, sad mess. I grew up with kids like that. That could have been me-- luckily, the worst that ever happened to me for passing out at a party was that my cousins wrote "f**kup" on my forehead in black Sharpie. If a few more people had been around-- who knows. If something had got started, my cousins wouldn't have protected me. I like to think they would at least not have participated, but I'm not sure of that statement.
Social deficits of neurotypicals.
That's why I don't do parties.
My heart breaks for all of them...
...but I have no sympathy for the perps or the good townsfolk who just want to see it covered up. For their f**ktard attitudes, throw the book at 'em.
Just to tell you what a hard-hearted bastard I am, I'm using this as a learning experience for my 11-year-old daughter. She's getting to the time in her life when she might want to party. She's pretty and personable. I'm telling her about this case in graphic detail...
...and I'm making sure to underline the fact that, although it's profoundly f**ked-up and utterly wrong, the only person who's really going to get punished is the victim. Moral of the story: Don't go to parties. Don't drink and get high with a bunch of other teenagers. I'd rather you didn't drink and get high, period-- but if you have to do it, do it somewhere quiet with your best friend.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
Last edited by BuyerBeware on 07 Jan 2013, 8:37 pm, edited 2 times in total.