Is it So Much to Ask?
Is it true that entertainment has such a strong hold on the youth that their
actual thoughts and actions can be connected to what they see and hear on
television? This is a growing concern for the older generations as they turn to
video games, movies, and rap music in order to understand what and why their
children are thinking what they are thinking.
Video games were created in the 1970s with the creation of the game
Pong. Until the eighties, games were created for pure untainted fun, but Pac
Man was the first game to incorporate destruction or “violence” of any kind.
Pac Man went around the screen eating dots, and killing ghost, pretty violent
right? With better graphics being produced at a constant rate games became more
realistic, and with the graphics came more violence. It is nothing to see
someone shoot a civilians head off, hire a prostitute, give her money, and then
kill her after she has fulfilled her purpose, in a game today. Of course there
are ratings, everybody through mature (just like on television), but they do not really stop the video
games from being played, they just stop them from being bought. I have a seven
year old cousin, who knows all of the Grand Theft Auto series like the back of
his hand. I wonder if these video games are affecting his thought process at
all. I often think to myself, “I pla
yed James Bond: Golden Eye on Nintendo 64 constantly. I used to kill all of my
friends and not think twice about it, I mean it was all in the spirit of
competition. I turned out alright, didn’t I?”
Recent research has made me think about the effects of violent video
games. I have heard that there is speculation that these violent games lead to
agression. I can see how they could lead to aggressiveness, but I honestly do
not believe that a normal child would take what he or she sees in a video game
and try to replicate it in real life. The day I see my little cousin throw
someone out of a car, and swerve off, I am going to commence to beat his little
ass. I have faith in my generation, as well as younger generations to separate what
is real from not real.
This much-needed awareness is also necessary when listening to rap
music. I listen to rap, almost exclusively. I have so intricately placed two
twelve inch MTX subwoofers in my trunk, so that everyone else knows when I am
listening to rap. I nod my head, and say the lyrics, but I do not live by them.
I can take what a rapper says as his or her interpretation on the times, but I
know that in a lot of cases rappers do not even do what they say they do. Of
course there are those who only speak the truth, but there are too many who do
not. One would not believe how many kids have told me that they have AR-15s,
and pump action shot guns, that they can get at will. It really insults my
intelligence when someone unveils their arsenal to me, and expects me to nod
along, in belief, every second of it. I never express my feelings, because some
people take their “tools” very seriously, but people are seriously wrapped up in a fictitious world. Again, there are people who feel that t
hey need an assault rifle to get through the day, and they go out and find a way
to purchase them, but the average high-school/college student has no business
buying one or telling me that they have one in the trunk.
People also need to realize that, unless they are watching a
documentary, odds are it is loosely based on a real event or all together fake.
I don’t know how many times I have wanted to tell someone that Scarface is not,
nor ever was a real person. Granted, Scarface is easily one of the best movies
ever made, but I know way too many kids who have based their life’s plan off of
this movie. I think that it is stupid to base your life off of a fictitious
character, especially one who dies at the end, and yet I know I would get a
crazy look if I asked why not Ace Ventura or Sponge Bob? They are all just as
real to me.
I wish I could say that we live in a society where a kid will not try to
replicate what he does in a video game, or tries to buy an AR-15 after he hears about it in a verse, but
we do not. Therefore, the first step to stopping all of the foolishness that is
occurring, some say due to video games, rap, and movies, lies with the parents.
Parents need to instill a sense of right and wrong in their children. It sounds
obvious, but there are kids who really do not know. If children know what is
right and wrong they have no one to blame but themselves if something goes
wrong. The second layer of responsibility lies with the kids themselves. Our
generations, as well as younger generations, need to take it upon themselves to
separate reality from fiction, and stop trying to blur the two. We cannot
regulate what rappers, directors, and game technicians create, as they are all
grown men and women creating products for other grow men and women; however if a
child gets a hold of one of
these grown up products, and their parents really do not even care (mine
didn’t), they should be able to watch, listen to, or play it without going to school and doing what they have seen or heard. Maybe
I am asking too much.
The Destroyer
I was all of ten on the threshold of manhood, digging through my mother’s closet
to find all of her belts so she couldn’t give me a whooping. Over and over I
cursed my parents for sending me to a school that made it’s more troubled
students write letters home to their parents, and have them signed and returned
the next day. Knowing how my parents would react, I forged a plan that I
thought would result in me walking away with no ramifications for my conduct in
class. I would place the letter in plain site, where my parents put all of
their mail and remove all of my mom’s belts from her closet. I stood up, bent
over from the weight of my mother’s need to coordinate each pair of shoes with a
belt, and I noticed one more hanging in the corner. I had always pictured this
particular belt in one of those “break in the event of and emergency” glass
cases, but to my surprise it was nestled between her dry cleaning. “Can’t forget this one,” I thought as I ripped it from
its perch on t
he hanger. Her prized belt was composed of blue suede, with silver medallions
going down it. I coined the name “destroyer” and bestowed it upon my blue suede
tormenter. It was never used to dish out pain, but rather to intimidate and
threaten. I could not take any chances leaving the “destroyer” in her closet,
because I knew that if it was her only means to teach me my lesson, I was going
to unwillingly confront my worst nightmare.
I retreated to my room, as the adrenaline from the deed I had just
performed wore off, leaving me giddy and nervous about the outcome. I watched
the multitudes of color pile up on my bed as I dropped them one by one “1, 2,
3,….” I counted them but the number I got did not equal the number I was getting
while I was in my mom’s closet. “Where is the destroyer?” I thought
frantically. I threw all of the belts in my closet and headed out of my room.
Just then I heard the door open, which signaled my mom’s return. The moment I was waiting for was upon me,
but my plan had erupted into a cataclysm, for which I had no back up plan. Now
instead of giving my mom the letter and laughing as she found that her armory
had been sacked, I was going to receive the whooping of my life. I began to
regret having ever thought about stealing her belts because now I could not even
receive my punishment from one of “the destroyer’s” lesser associates, I had to
have a meeting with the boss. I ran back to my parent’s room, and looked in the
closet to see if I dropped it, but unfortunately it was no where to be seen.
“What is taking my mom so long to get up the stairs” I thought. “She’s probably
reading my note.” I paced up and down the pathway that my bed and dresser
created, in a daze, knowing what would become of my hide if I didn’t find it. I
realized that I had to return to the scene of the crime due to the slight chance
that I might have
overlooked it in my haste. Sweat beaded on my forehead, as I entered the room. I grew sick when I saw a scene that still resonates
in my mind: my mother, “destroyer” in hand, with an evil grin on her face that
almost showed a malicious pleasure in how she was going to rearrange my anatomy
that day. I threw my self upon the mercy of the court of Tina Capers-Hall,
Feeling as though I had come to some kind of crossroad in my life, I was going
to take my whooping like a man. I approached my mother, turned around, and
pulled down my pants. As I waited for the silver medallions to get acquainted
with my exposed skin and literally make their first “impressions,” that
malicious grin turned into hysterical laughter, and she walked away without
speaking a word. My plan had gone to hell, and somehow I got the outcome I had
hoped for. Now all I had to do was put all of the belts back like they were
because I knew I was not going to be able to dodge two whoopings in one day.
Borat Review
He is clueless, makes ridiculous comments, but we can not help but to
love him. Picture Forrest Gump in a former Soviet country, add some crude humor, and
you have Borat. In his November third debut on the big screen Kazakhstani
journalist, Borat, is sent to America to find out why it is such a great
country. That’s easy enough to understand, right? A director could take this
simple idea and run in a number of directions with it. Sasha Cohen has taken
what I would call an interesting route. Once in America, Borat falls in love
with Pamela Anderson, and goes cross-country on a search for her. Along the way
he meets many different Americans and records information to bring back, for the
betterment of his country.
Borat is a character on Cohen’s show “Da Ali G Show.” He goes around
America saying whatever he pleases to unsuspecting civilians. Cohen has
ingeniously blended his simple script with Borat’s interaction with real people.
Coming from such a foreign land, Borat, played by Cohen himself, takes advantage
of many of American’s need to be politically correct and polite in dealings with foreigners. Due to his “ignorance” of American culture, Borat
makes outlandish comments in front of actual people, and though some of them get
mad (as you will see in the movie) many are polite and attempt to teach him not
to make such comments. I watched as an audience of individuals, ages thirteen
and up, was captivated by this Kazahkstani moron paraded around the big screen
in a very revealing speedo, or shared a very intimate kiss with his sister (in
the first five minutes of the movie). Surprisingly, I was captivated as well.
Every scene left me wondering what this guy could say next. I am a
fan of the sketch on the show but I feared that Borat’s exploits would only work
well when incorporated into a five to ten minute sketch on television, rather
than a full-length feature film. Borat exceeded my expectations, and had me, as
well as the audience gasping for air as we stifled our laughter so as not to
miss the next joke.
The Movie only falls short when any real acting needs to be done. Let’s face it, a Kazahakstani journalist in search of Pamela Anderson
is not a very inspiring script to begin with, but the actor’s lack of training
is easily spotted. Cohen is not as good of an actor as he is at improvising off
of peoples reaction to what he says. I doubt Cohen was in search of an Oscar
when he made this movie, and I am sure that those who are going to see this
movie really care about Cohen’s professional theatrical training.
The movie is very funny, one of the funniest I have seen in a while, but
the lack of actual acting and offensive nature toward some cultures may turn
some off of Borat. One can only truly enjoy this movie if they are able to
stomach the male nudity, and tolerate some of the offensive remarks towards
certain cultures. I would not recommend this movie to everyone, but if you want
to laugh, possibly to the point of stomach cramps, (just hydrate before the
movie) then you will give Borat a chance. Borat will not move you to go out and
make a change, leave you reflecting on the state of the universe, or inspire roundtable discussions
on C-Span, but he will also not disappoint.