Quote:
Originally Posted by TorqueDog
Why not? Is it hard to explain to your kid the difference between fiction and reality? I think the problem is that parents spend less time with their kids. Hell, I'd not only buy them the game, I'd play it with them. My parents (dad specifically) made a HUGE fuss about Mortal Kombat. I wasn't allowed to rent it, and the few times I pulled a fast one on mom and rented it, he immediately found it, and returned it to Rogers on me. So I'd play it at my friends houses instead. Perhaps there might have been some benefit to them actually letting me play it in my own house where they could be around while I was playing it? Maybe I wouldn't have uppercutted that guy who pissed me off in traffic last week and sent him in the pit of spikes underneath the Peace Bridge?
It's hilarious for sure, but I've underlined the problem. People now seem to become irrationally paranoid (all the while forgetting their own youth) about their kids.
My generation used to play hide and go seek tag and the garage roof was an acceptable place to hide. Or we'd pack the stand-up laundry hamper full of blankets, climb in, and have our friends push it down the stairs.
Though I'm sure when I have kids, my first thought will be along the lines of "What the hell are you doing, get out of the laundry hamper, and stay the hell away from the stairs with it."It was like listening to a bunch of little Andrew Dice Clays when we were kids.
Biggest reason we swore so much is because we knew we weren't allowed to around adults, so we loved doing it when we knew we wouldn't get in trouble. If it wasn't taboo, we likely wouldn't have done it so much. It was just us indulging in the forbidden fruit of our own language.
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When I was a teenager partying at a buddy's place, and he passed out on the couch, I'd just borrow his girlfriend's makeup and draw something stupid on his face. Nowadays, when the host passes out early, ten guys get together and gang rape his girlfriend live on the Internet and then set him on fire on the way out the door.
When I was a little kid, we'd punch each other in the arm whenever a VW beetle drove by. Now, they punch each other in the balls and make someone snort a line of crushed up habanero peppers.