by Max Myers
The first time I saw Clint Eastwood was in a movie when I was a kid. I can’t remember which one, I just remember his eyes — cold, blue, intense. The Eastwood squint. As I grew up, I discovered who this iconic American was. You can’t just call him an actor. He’s a national treasure who sadly is reaching the end of the line.
Clint Eastwood is part of the dying breed. He grew up in an era when a man could handle his business. Not have to be concerned with lawsuits and angry words being turned into, ‘an act of terrorism.’ Oh, you don’t know about this? If some idiot cut you off, or behaved badly in a bar, or insulted your lady, or did something to earn your ire, then it used to be an oft-uttered phrase by most men and a few ladies I’ve known. Namely this, “Hey, fuck you pal, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.” Everyone knew that it was an empty threat, the death part, that is, but it’s what people said when they got pissed and were ready to throw joints – fight.
Yes, yes, before your roll your eyes, here are a few simple truths in this otherwise PC-infected world. You can’t legislate peace and harmony. It has to come from an evolved humanity. As more and more draconian laws are passed, we are witnessing the emasculation of men. Yeah, that’s right, legal castration. You can’t deny what lives innately in many – if not most — males. The primal urge to defend one’s family, friends and homestead. To correct injustice.
That’s what cops are for, you say? Bollox, say I. Sure, in a perfect world, the law should be allowed to do their job and one should never, ever take the law into one’s own hands. I get that and fully support it. But that’s just not always practical and in case you haven’t checked lately, the world is far from perfect.
You see, there’s a silent, primordial battle that constantly takes place between males of any age. You can be sitting in your car, stuck in traffic and suddenly you lock eyes with some other dude. The stare-down begins. Or you might be walking down the sidewalk and both you and the other guy are trying to figure out who is going to move to one side, or you could be in a queue in a restaurant and the numb-nuts behind you gets too close, invades your personal space, or you could be in a bar, or, well, you get the picture. It’s innate. It’s 100% real and it’s part of the human psyche. Women do the same thing, but their weapons are mostly who has the bigger breasts, the nicer hair, the more shapely legs, the prettier smile. Occasionally they get to tussling, but not often.
“Go ahead, punk, make my day.”
Does violence suck? Of course it does. But you’ve got to admit that when Dirty Harry blows away some miscreant asshole, or saves someone, or rights a wrong, that you, like me, cheered your head off. Same with Manco in the Spaghetti Western trilogy, or the Outlaw Josey Wales, or pick whichever Western you loved and if you didn’t, then keep it to yourself. Everyone, everyone, has had the urge, at some point in their life, to knock the crap out of some idiot, or — and you can deny this all you want — but we both know that all of us have had the desire to kill some vile miscreant. Of course most of us would never follow up on that urge, but the point is that it lives in all of us. Inconvenient, eh, the innate truth of humanity?
In today’s society, we’re raising a generation of un-heroic kids. Yes, there’s always exceptions, but now kids are rewarded with a trophy for just playing their particular sport, not if their team won. What does that tell a kid?
“Hey, Tommy, you did great!”
“I did?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Why? We didn’t win. They did.”
“But you played.”
“But I didn’t kick the winning goal, Truck did.”
“You played!”
“But…”
“…YOU PLAYED!”
Yippee. Hip-hip-hoo-bloody-ray. How about we reward kids for actually achieving something? Now let’s add, ‘conflict resolution’ to the pot. Mikey and Billy get into a beef. Instead of letting them sort it out for themselves, the teacher, the psychologist, the headmistress, the school board, the police and the city council all become part of the debate. I grew up in an era, the sixties, when if you behaved like an asshole, you stood a really good chance of getting knocked on your ass.
“Wait, you mean if I behave like a big mouth prat, this could happen again?”
“Yep, it sure could buddy.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t behave that way.”
Lesson learned.
Or the madness now of no parental control allowed. I, 100%, don’t believe in hitting kids. It happened to me, not fun. However, with the way the laws are now, parents can’t even use the threat of it as the Sword of Damocles, without running the risk of police intervention. So now kids can virtually do anything that want, because they know that there’s nothing the parents can do about it.
“Wait ‘til your father gets home!”
Remember that one? Yeah, me too only now it’s child abuse. Seriously? Madness.
You might be wondering what all this has to do with the Clint Eastwood. If you really are asking that question, then you’re exactly the person this post is aimed at.