Blogs are getting a lot of pixel inches out of an essay entitled I Can’t Do One-Quarter of the Things My Father Can, which plays into an Instapundit narrative about the loss of traditional male skills. In my defense, I’d like to point out that I know how to do a number of things that my father can’t do. These include:
- Order a Starbucks drink just the way I want it.
Face it, it’s only a triple venti cap, but I not only know the sizes of the cups, but I know the order in which the barristas call it. My generation knows how to express its drink preferences in ways the Greatest Generation or Baby Boomers can only dream of, which is probably why they mostly still drink coffee. - Hook up any game console to any television or entertainment center.
What, you don’t have the cables? Brother, I have all sorts of cables and transformers so I can still hook that old Nintendo Entertainment System to your Yamaha receiver. - Operate video game controllers.
Let’s face it, when confronted with keys marked with triangles, squares, and Xs, my father would totally be lost. - Time shift my television viewing.
I’m no longer bound to watching Lost on Wednesday nights, which means I can watch something else, probably something I had to record because I was watching a recorded episode of Lost. - Insightfully quote culturally meaningful films.
Because a proper quip from Office Space or catchphrase from Napoleon Dynamite identifies the user as intelligent and witty enough to use canned touchstones instead of uttering original thoughts or keeping my mouth shut and sounding smarter. - Blithely ignore the implications of my dependence.
Mommy State and Daddy Professionals are only a phone call away if I’m not afraid of ceding my rights to free thought and using all of my revolving credit on lifestyle maintenance.
So there you go. Maybe I do lack some basic skills required at the root level for survival, but I have mad skillz to mindlessly enjoy the fruits of an increasingly fragile modern civilization.
