Cars, phones, cheeseburgers & grown-up medication
A dispatch from the front lines of decency, disconnection, and trying anyway
It could be said that to live in this time is to cry over spilled milk—or more accurately, millions of barrels of spilled oil—while scrolling Instagram at the gas pump. Same difference. Whatever it is you're crying about, your tears aren't wasted. And in that vein: stop crying. Life is hard. Humans are responsible.
“The real power in America is held by a fast-emerging new Oligarchy of pimps and preachers who see no need for Democracy or fairness or even trees, except maybe the ones in their own yards, and they don't mind admitting it. They worship money and power and death. Their ideal solution to all the nation's problems would be another 100 Year War.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Kingdom of Fear
Quoting Hunter S. Thompson feels about as authentic as a Nirvana t-shirt sold at Target. But this is about economies of scale, right? Plus, he wasn’t wrong—not in 2003, not now. And plus-plus, there are still folks out here convinced the election was stolen and that demons (and angels) are real.
Staying informed or not, starting your day with climate denial and caffeine isn’t exactly a joy trigger. And it sure doesn’t help the sacred ritual of slapping together lunches while shouting “shoes! backpacks! teeth!” like some kind of suburban drill sergeant trying to get two half-dressed humans into orbit before the tardy bell tolls. And boy, does it toll.
Parenting’s always been hard, sure. Probably since the first human popped out. I’m sure the parent looked down and thought, “Okay… what now?”
And maybe because I’m still relatively new to it (I mean, I’m not that new to it. My daughter was born in 2016), I’m just still adjusting to the tropical storm of needs that comes with raising two actual human people. Remember when we said—earnestly—that we wouldn’t allow screens in the house? How blissfully naive.
So, how do you stay positive?
How do you become the role model you hope to be? How do you stay honest with your kids about the country’s regression and the slow-motion collapse of American society? Tell the frog to jump out of the fucking pot— the water is starting to boil!
These are the internal questions that bubble up after each of my four cups of coffee every morning—once my heart can’t decide if it’s prepping for a marathon or just another day slumped in front of Zoom calls.
We are the first generation of parents trying to raise emotionally intelligent, screen-limited, nutritionally-balanced children inside a system that wants absolutely none of that.
Watching the Celtics implode in the playoffs the other night, my daughter glanced up during a timeout and said, “Every ad is either cars, phones, cheeseburgers, or grown-up medication.”
And there it was. The summation of American life, through the lens of an 8-year-old: Egregiously expensive cars and tech and bad food. Our entire ethos, rolled into one shiny, high-fructose bundle. Sell your soul by 40 and laugh about it over mild wings.
The message in the impossible-to-read-fine-print: Seek balance, young one—but make it fucking profitable.
The future has never been predictable—but for our youth, it feels overwhelmingly unpredictable. They've said as much. The question is: do we actually listen?
Or do we keep blaming their unease on bad habits—violent video games, too much (or any) social media, apathetic vibes—many of which we, as adults, parents, and guardians, are just as guilty of?
Perhaps the real power is held by pimps and preachers. But the real weight? I’ll stand up and argue—vehemently—that it’s carried by parents trying to raise decent kids in a system stacked against decency. And that lack of decency? Yeah... it’s starting to feel kind of normal, isn’t it?
Friends— that’s a major problem.
“Work pressures, multitasking, social media, news updates, multiplicities of entertainment sources—these all induce us to become lost in thoughts, frantic activities, gadgets, meaningless conversations. We are caught up in pursuits of all kinds that draw us on not because they are necessary or inspiring or uplifting, or because they enrich or add meaning to our lives, but simply because they obliterate the present.” Gabor Maté, The Myth of Normal
And there it is. Obliteration of the present. That's the real cultural export. Nixon continues to roll in his grave — Hunter was right, again.
What he didn’t mention was how loud the noise would get. Or how hard it would be to pack a lunch, teach empathy, and get your kid to brush their teeth in a world actively working against presence, honesty, and connection. But we try. We do try. We pack the lunches. We put the phone down. We try to stay in the moment. All the moments.
And maybe that’s the quiet revolution—parenting with eyes open in a world that wants you chronically overstimulated, emotionally dehydrated, and generally fucking exhausted.