Showing posts with label sitcoms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sitcoms. Show all posts

Saturday, March 16, 2024

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

Image by Evgeni Tcherkasski from Pixabay

This weekly column consists of letters written to my perspicacious progeny  the Stickies — to advise 'em now and haunt them after I'm deleted.

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC-65: Sexy Seasoned Citizens   



Featuring {Dana}Persistent auditory hallucination and charming literary device 

"At some point or another, everyone has felt unseen and unheard and marginalized." - Ayanna Pressley 

Dear Stickies (and gentlereaders),  

I'm a member of a marginalized group.

I went a-googlin' to discover exactly what a marginalized group is having been triggered by the use of the phrase. It happened to turn up in a bunch of articles one recent morning when I was in the midst of my daily relentless need for input.

{Yeah, yeah, we know, you're a current events junkie and...}

In my defense, Dana, I'm very particular about what sort of current events I shoot up, and I'm a wanna-be polymath with wide-ranging interests beyond current events.

{Half-assed polymath... Hey, isn't that a line from a Randy Newman song?}

Perhaps I should settle for renaissance man person and make a point of pronouncing the word as ren-a'-sance. 

{This whole often crossing out man or men shtick and inserting person, not to mention making fun of the pronoun wars by writing he/she/they or the like is getting old.}

As am I, but now that I'm officially declaring myself to be a member of a marginalized group I'll have to give some thought to changing my ways.

According to ("Your diversity, equity & inclusion solutions all in one place") "...marginalize refers to the act of treating a person or group as though they are insignificant by isolating and/or disempowering them." 

Having been raised in front of an old school television (think 27" black and white box with tinfoil draped rabbit ears mounted on a cheap stand with two cat hair-clogged plastic wheels for viewing maneuverability) my isolation and disempowerment started early and continues to this day. 

{Huh. Do tell.}

I refer, of course, to heterosexual pasty patriarchs being treated with thinly veiled contempt via that all-American institution, the TV sitcom. 

Anyone of a certain age is aware of the rapid devolution of the wise and patient family patriarch type, think Ward Cleaver or Ozzy Nelson, to the likes of Alan Harper of Two and a Half Men and Al Bundy of Married, With Children, with Archie Bunker of All in the Family bridging the gap. 

For the record, I confess to thoroughly enjoying All in the Family which began in my last year of high school. It was well-written, funny, and cutting-edge for its era. 

But being a relatively clueless callowyute at the time, I never gave any thought to the fact that while Archie's hip, self-righteous son-in-law Michael (aka Meathead) went to class to study sociology, Archie, went to work. 

I went a-googlin' to jog my memories of All in the Family and discovered that I had forgotten that Archie fought in the Second World War. Worse, I had no memory of the fact he had been a young baseball star who dreamed of playing for the Yankees but had dropped out of high school to go to work to support his family during the Great Depression.  

Still, everyone knows the dads of TV Land are (usually) well-meaning dopes... except for evil ones that run hooge global empires that spend all their time ripping off everyone they can, including loved ones.

{What about Cliff Huxtable?}

Moving on...

Despite being told for decades that dads are dopes, I attempted to overcome the damage inflicted on me from being raised in a psychological ghetto in TV Land. I fell in love with, and set my sights on, a blond, girl next door type in my mid-twenties. 

I set out to become, Superhusband! Partying had become boring and my genes were crying out to be reproduced.

I spent nearly three years proving myself worthy and able to make such a thing financially and realistically possible while my love finished college by the skin of her teeth and subsequently informed me that it wasn't me, it was her. 

Later dude. 

{Oh c'mon...}


"I think there's something wrong with me, I don't think I'm capable of making a commitment," she said.

It would've been nice to know that before spending three years re-enacting the Labors of Hercules.

"I know we promised to be each other's rock, but like, I'm just not up for being anyone's rock right now."

{Oh c'mon...}


To be brutally honest, the previous paragraphs were as far as this column got before I ran out of gas. Not having dropped out of high school to support my family and abandoning my dream of being a professional baseball player (or having fought in a world war) I was feeling like a sissy. 
{You're aware Archie Bunker wasn't an actual person... right?}

I definitely don't feel privileged but life and my late wife (born sick, died sick) has taught me that my life could've been way worse, perhaps I should just click on the little trash can icon.

{Uh-oh, do I smell white fragility?}

That's my new deodorant. 

But then I came across this, Thousands of Seniors are still dying of Covid-19. Do we not care anymore? courtesy of

"Prejudice against older adults is nothing new, but 'it feels more intense, more hostile' now than previously, said Karl Pillemer, 69, a professor of psychology and gerontology at Cornell University." 

{I don't understand.}

That one sentence tells ya everything you need to know, you don't have to read the article. Everything in the article is a variation on that one sentence.

{I still don't understand.}

I'm a victim! I'm marginalized! Get Kimberle Crenshaw on the line I need validation! I'm yet another victim of "multiple forms of inequality or disadvantage."  

According to the chicks at Womankind Worldwide"Intersectionality is the acknowledgement that everyone has their own unique experiences of discrimination and oppression and we must consider everything and anything that can marginalise people – gender, race, class, sexual orientation, physical ability, etc."

{Hey, you spelled acknowledgement and...}

You need to stop marginalizing the way folx in the UK spell. 

{I was referring to Womankind, shouldn't that be Womynkind?}

Wait, I'll be right back... Nope, that's how they spelled it.

Cool! I'm officially oppressed and marginalized! Do I get a check? Is there a softball league? An official Facebook page? Hows about reparations? I gotta go... busy, busy!

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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