Romantics or RideManics

Playboy

We grew up to Spice Girls and Britney Spears, we grew up in the world where  Internet raged and boomed to the moans and groans of www porn and abuse, the generation gap widened, our world wasnt afraid to admit to sex, affairs and divorce and now we feel fit to judge those who have come after us.

The channel 4 TV show Gypsy Weddings, highlights the culture we have encouraged, one of Jordans, Pg 3 models, barbies with huge boobs and skinny waists, tv shows such as Paradise Hotel, and Big Brother scenes of casual sex, are we becoming a western mob of casual sexual deviants devoid of the feelings of love and respect for each other.

Sex has become a commodity, 14 and 13 year old girls are showered with Playboy products  from school bags to jewelery, and boys record teenage girls giving them blowjobs in school yards on mobile phones,

what kind of world are we fostering, one devoid of romance and littered with disrespect and one can call it openness but its also sad as childhood is torn away year by year by commercialism and materialism.

Take A look at MTV and see sexualized music videos showing young girls and guys its OK, to perform certain actions and in numerous locations. We dont want a world of Saints n Scholars, We want  a world of sexual liberation and freedom but when the time is right, childhood should be cherished and preserved not thrown away in a teen disco at 14 to the smell of smoke, taste of body fluids and sounds of Rhianna.

The Gypsy People in Channel 4 are being flooded with this imagery and content and devoid of education are being influenced and mocked by the press. Their culture is precious and they are mistreated but dont put them on a pedestal that we the middle and upper classes have created and fostered and then laugh at them like some kind of Pathetic Shakespearan or Greek Tragedy. We sit alone as creators and destroyers, we stand alone as the generation that saw all and did nothing and now we laugh at the misfortune of others.


Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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