Life And What Is This?
As I prepared to leave my apartment earlier this morning, my ears heard one of the worst sounds in the universe: a young man crying. Through the living room window I saw the pathetic subject (between 11 and 13) crying as he waited for a school bus. I had no idea what was making him cry, but no matter what the cause—a scolding from mommy, the death of his furry pet, humiliation from an older brother—nothing is bad enough, worthy enough for a young (or old) man (and I only speak for men) to cry about. I come from a culture that allows men to hold hands as they walk. That is totally acceptable. But to collapse into tears like a Greek actor? How can you do such a thing and hope to maintain a strong will of mind, a will against a world that is at every moment trying to overwhelm you? The best thing we can teach our boys is to cast on their moments of grief an icy eye or shatter them with laughter but, no matter what, never retreat into the imbecility of overemotional, overloud tears.
Oh dear god, fire this idiot.