The Wimpiest Generation

So there's a heatwave gripping the Midwest. Near 100 degrees all week with stifling humidity. Can't walk three steps without somebody complaining about the weather and asking, "Is it hot enough for you?" Constant media alerts about the heat index, and how dangerous it is to be outside too long.

Gimme a break. Would somebody please tell me what the big deal is? (Alert: I'm about to go off on an "I remember when....." rant.)

When I was really young, heat like this didn't stop us from going outside to play all afternoon - and not at the swimming pool, either. We had no real alternative, other than watching soap operas on one of the three TV stations from which we could choose, but we did it without complaining. And we didn't stop every five minutes to take a drink either.

When I was a teenager, it was the same deal, except instead of playing outside I was doing farmwork outside. Day after day after day. It seemed like the hottest days were reserved for baling hay or straw (a task equally as itchy as it was hot). And we're not talking about the labor-saving round bales they make today, either. I mean the rectangular ones that you had to lift and stack. Of course, since we operated a livestock farm, if we had nothing better to do we could always haul manure (a task equally as smelly as it was hot). Oh, and we didn't stop every five minutes to take a drink then, either.

Needless to say, when I became an adult with a wimpy office job, I didn't complain about the heat. Still don't.

But the current city-fied, under 30 generation, now they are a different story. This is the sedentary generation, a group raised on cable TV and video games. Anything above a climate-controlled 80 degrees is enough for them to start bitching, maybe even take the day off. The media coddling doesn't help, alerting us to take breaks, stay indoors, and of course, make sure our pets aren't outside. (Somewhere up there, my old dog Teddy is shaking his head.)

I get that each generation lives better than the one before it, and I don't expect people to be outdoors if they don't have to be. But please, please stop complaining about the heat. It makes you and the country look like a bunch of wimps

Beached Whales

Took last week off for a Florida vacation, and came back with a lot of things worth blogging about. Let's start with people at the beach.

I was at a prominent Gulf coast beach for several days, and I'm sorry to report that for the most part, the people-watching wasn't pleasant. Oh sure, there are some young hardbodies out there. The problem is, for every 1 of them there were 10 overweight slobs who have no business wearing a swimming suit.

It was universal, too - men and women of all ages and colors (including the color of sunburned) were showing off their rolls like proud bakers. I even noticed a few who hit the 'beach sloth trifecta': Fat, sunburned, and smoking cigarettes.

To add injury to insult, most of these folks were crammed into swim suits that were too small. Probably fit them a couple of years and several dozen pounds ago, but not anymore. It was hideous, it really was.

I support the development of a new flag symbol at the beach, to go with the ones lifeguards fly for dangerous weather conditions. Something to warn beachgoers of a higher than normal population of unattractive people in ill-fitting swimwear.