hot sun, cold beer

I was watching a TV show on hi-def last night – I think it’s called Art Mann Presents. And what the show consisted of was Art Mann, who looked to be a Thirty-Something, wandering around a California beach with a mike and a camera, talking to Twenty-Somethings in bikinis. Now, I like to look at 20 year olds in bikinis as much as the next guy: it’s why I tuned in in the first place. But there was something troubling about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

It wasn’t just the fact that the guys and gals were pouring beer down their throats as fast as they could. Nothing wrong with kids having fun. And it wasn’t the tattoos and the piercings most of them had. Nothing wrong with tattoos, or even the clit stud a chunky blonde cutely flashed.

So why did I feel so… dispirited?

I think it was this: I had the sense that none of these strong, healthy, vital, and energetic children in adult bodies had any idea what the human race has been through to make their carefree beer-swilling possible. It was as if the world has always been this way -- blue sky and sun, nubile bodies and beer delivered to your doorstep -- and always will be this way.

But it hasn’t. And it won’t.