Children of our age

There is an interesting thread over at the spearhead about a drawing one of Bill’s kids did.

I won’t reproduce it here, go over there and read the thread and have a look.

What is interesting is this, I looked at the kids drawing and my immediate reaction was why draw a passenger jet?

You see, as soon as I saw a kids drawing of an aeroplane, I was taken back to another kid, me, drawing aeroplanes, and myself and the kids at my school used to draw Spitfire vs ME109 things, and yes, by then I had flown commercial.

So I pop on to Google images to search for the type of drawing / scribble that we used to do, big fat zero… so nothing left but for me to attempt to emulate a 1960’s era kids drawing, and you get interesting results if you save that drawing on the right, and drag and drop into google image search.

So, anyway, back to the plot.

So why was I, and every other boy kid,  drawing Spitfire vs ME109 in the mid to late 1960’s, after all the war had been over for over a decade before we were even born, so it is not like we grew up seeing the planes duelling in the sky overhead, and those who DID live through the war didn’t fucking talk about it much, even then…

I think for the same reason we all wanted to be train drivers and cowboys and progressed through pop/cork guns through cap guns to gat guns and eventually air pistols.

I have a documentary, from 1978, talking about the new computer revolution, you can find it on youtube etc, “Horizon – When the chips are down” a sad and prophetic tale of yet another scientific lead that the English (not the fucking British, the English) were way way way ahead of the world in, and as usual we pissed it all away and as usual the guvvmint of the day lacked clue #1

But it ___IS___ interesting, as it prophecies the commercial word processor, and what that will do to one of the HUGE employers of wimminz in the day, that of being a typist in the typing pool.

(Incidentally we owe the QWERTY keyboard layout to the mechanical typewriter manufacturers as a way of slowing down the wimminz typing so that the individual hammers that contained each letter did not meet and jam in the print head slot)

You see the 1960’s when I and every other boy was drawing Spitfire vs ME109 was a world in which the pussifying of all small boys had yet to start… and speaking quite honestly, none of you born since can even imagine what that was like.

It was a universal truth that all girls, without exception, were sissy and pathetic and stupid, and only puberty would change this opinion.

This was as obvious a truth as the fact that it was better to be a cowboy than an indian, and the Lancaster was better than the Flying Fortress, and catapults were better than penknives as presents to be received for your birthday.

I still have time for my aged mum, a nonagenarian almost, because she still lives in that era, no modern feminist equality rubbish for her, don’t forget this era of Euro women grew up in a land war literally on the front doorstep, and whatever the reasons for a war by the time it gets down and dirty and grinding and things like the fire-bombing of Dresden or the Mustard gassing of men in the trenches is going down there is no room for the excess baggage of PC bullshit and “feewings” and shite.

She is however of the last generation of women who actually had it tough, who knew shit from shinola, and even some of her contemporaries who stayed at home, or went off in the land army or who partied with all the servicemen on leave and all the yanks based here, still to this day have markedly different attitudes.

My own boy children, the youngest of an age in the 2010’s that I was in the 1960’s, growing up in what might as well be a foreign planet compared to the world I grew up in, even though geographically less than 20 miles covers the difference, it’s a time machine, and that first step is a doozy.

He won’t be playing cowboys and indians, or indeed anything involving guns, and please don’t start me off about Call of Duty of some video game du jour…. even throwing a rotten tomato at another running boy taught you more about ballistics in 5 minutes, literally, that you will learn in a life time of playing fucking video games.

So since there are no cowboys and indians, there is no need to go into the woods and build tree houses and forts, or get dirty, and besides he will already be grounded for not playing nicely with the girls when they want to be all inclusive and set up a shop in the gateway for Fort Deathskull or some stupid inane shit.

God forbid Bill’s kid does draw a fighter plane, even one will a black will smith in it shooting an alien mothership and saving all the wimminz on planet earth from extreme tentacle sex and insemination, because it will be taken as a sign that the kid needs medication and therapy, and that Bill needs to be kept away…

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