Generation XX

This week marked the 68th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Now before you go and say, “Hey Jay, even The Devil’s Advocate shouldn’t make jokes about 69ing a fat Japanese chick on the anniversary of the second deadliest attack in U.S. history,” I want you to know that I have no intention of doing that, pussies. What I wanted to do was share a thought I had as I watched the “Remembering Pearl Harbor” segment on the news this week. Now it is common knowledge that with every passing generation, a tier of toughness gets erased. As technology has pulled people out of the factories and dropped them into cubicles, so too has our collective grit been pulled out of our psyche and dropped into a bottle of Prozac. Call it a good thing. Call it a bad thing. Call it whatever you want but you must admit that it is true. Our grandparents’ generation never had emo kids. All it takes to demonstrate this is to observe the look of pure disgust anytime an old person sees a teenage boy wearing fingernail polish. It’s like watching a hate crime without having all the inconveniences of victims. I’m getting a little off base here. We all know that older generations think that younger generations are pussies. Always have. Always will. What we don’t think about is the older generation of our Japanese enemies turned friends on the other side of the pond and what they must be thinking about the mettle of their younger, Hello Kitty, generation.

As much as American seniors must think that the youth of today has lost its sense of fortitude, I imagine that it is nothing when compared to the contempt felt by a person who came from a kamikaze culture. Think about it. These people came from a time where the most revered soldiers were the kamikaze. It was one of the main traditions in the samurai life and the Bushido code: loyalty and honor until death. No matter what your opinion is on the tactic of committing suicide to achieve a military goal, you have to admit that the last word to describe it would be “pussy.” Today in Japan, things have changed to say the least. Toilet-maker Matsushita Electric Works reported a survey this year suggesting that more than 40 per cent of adult men in Japan sit on the toilet when they urinate so as to avoid being scolded by angry women. What….The….Fuck?!

They have even coined a term describing the feminization of Japanese men, “soshoku-danshi,” which translates to “herbivore male” or “grass-eaters.” The following is an excerpt from an article in The Independent World. “Like many all-encompassing buzzwords, “herbivore male” can be laughably imprecise. Among his other qualities, the herbivore is close to his mum, has a liking for deserts and foreign travel and leans toward platonic relationships with the opposite sex. He will happily share a night with a woman without laying a hand on her and doesn’t waste his money on prostitutes.” And you thought I was making this shit up.

Imagine being an eighty-something year old Japanese war veteran and watching your grandson complain that his new shade of lipstick doesn’t compliment the hue of his skin. Imagine that. Then imagine how badly you would wish you could get into a Zero and fly that motherfucker straight into his favorite salon.

Of course the war has long been over and people and cultures change. Now, the kamikaze culture is a distant memory and killing yourself in the name of honor has moved over to the Middle East. I just wonder what their older generation thinks about the young extremists who blow themselves up in the name of Jihad. My bet is the conversation goes something like this, “Kids these days are such pussies. When I was young and we declared Jihad, we were brave and we threw fire bombs. Blowing yourself up is stupid! How are you going to know if you got anybody?!”

Good point, Ahmed. Good point.