A Nation Of Douche Bags

I'm not sure exactly when it happened. I don't know what brought it about. But the ugly truth is there for anyone to see. We are a nation of ill-bred, ill-mannered douche bags. Where once we kept our thoughtlessness under wraps for fear of judgement, we now wear it as a badge of patriotic pride. When we do see the problem of Rude America, we see it only in others. We identify a cause of rudeness only so that we may sit in judgement on The Rude. If we recognize any rudeness in ourselves, these causes quickly become our excuses. And the cancer grows while we all sit smugly by.

If we are to survive, we must confront The Douche Bag Within.

One of our fave scapegoat/excuses is TECHNOLOGY. TECHNOLOGY has advanced so rapidly, etiquette simply can't keep up. "How are you supposed to send an apology? Phone, voicemail, email, text, facebook page or tweet? It's just so overwhelming. I don't know what to do."

Sure you do. Apologize. Immediately and sincerely. But we've become so divorced from any real regard for each other that the numerous methods we have of communicating have simply made us more efficient douches. National Burn A Quran Day has a Facebook page. Sarah Palin tweets her support for Dr. Laura's on-air use of racial epithets. Perez Hilton posts an invasive shot of underage Miley Cyrus (and cell-phone toting Peeping Toms everywhere realize they are on a lucrative career path.)

These shocking examples are made possible by the less outrageous acts of Everyday Douchebags. You know one. You are one. Do you have loud cell phone conversations in public places? Do you text while someone else is talking to you? Do you decline to put spaces between your words when you email, saving a few precious seconds by rendering your message incomprehensible to your reader? Yep. You're the Douchebag.

Another easy target is reality tv. It has made us vulgar and gossip-hungry. Except that it hasn't made us anything. (Except insufferably dull conversationalists.) TV producers knew we were a nation of catty bitches and farting frat boys and they figured out how to make money off that. Well-crafted drama, scripted and performed by seasoned professionals was shoved aside in favor of a tasteless parade of "real" people vigorously over-sharing, artificially manipulated to produce tears and screaming matches, the losers swept aside each week and forgotten. They are the Gladiators and We, The Emperors.

Personal dignity and regard for others. If we'd had them to begin with, the producers would have been selling us new game shows for the last decade, instead of this endless gross-fest.

Finally - The American Family. The sharpest of my readers will already have noticed that Dr. Laura, Sarah Palin and the Quran burners ARE the American Family. They are its most vocal proponents, the self-appointed Keepers of American Morality. They oppose anything - from sex ed to rock music - which compromises their control because, they argue that the home is the proper sphere for teaching kids right from wrong.

So what do we think kids learn from watching Mommy make Daddy a "God Hates Fags" sign to wave in front of the cameras? My guess is they learn that God Loves Douche Bags.

Still - hope springs eternal and from the least likely places.

My Man and I went to Spaceland last week to see The Spits - a Seattle-based punk band. They took the stage at midnight, by which time the crowd was hyper and trashed. As we jockeyed for a good position in front of the stage, I got jostled. It was no biggie. No bruises were left. My drink wasn't spilled. I've certainly survived worse. But the jostler stopped, looked me in the eye and said,

"Sorry 'bout that."

And moved on. It doesn't sound like much but it almost never happens. I'm small. I get thrashed about mercilessly in crowds. And no one ever apologizes. Ever.

The show started and so did the moshing. And the moshers - I am not making this up - took care of each other. They moshed. They moshed real good. But when someone went down, they were helped up. The pit stayed in the pit - the moshers respecting the crowd-imposed boundary. And everyone was happy. Happy to be sharing a communal moment of music and beer and raw energy. Happy to be around other people. If punk rockers can play nice, surely the Tea Partiers could make an effort.

Our nation is bitterly divided. Our culture and government have descended into a perpetual shouting match in which nothing is ever resolved and cheap shots are the highest possible victory. The disregard we show for each others' feelings is a way of dehumanizing our fellow man. Once Americans stop seeing each other as countrymen, we're done. Shark bait. Sitting ducks. Too many people hate us for us to be so eager to hate each other.

So - for the sake of the nation that bore you - mind your manners. A few suggestions. Pick 2 to try tomorrow. And Be the Change.

1. When you bump into someone, stop and say "Sorry 'bout that."
2. When you ride an escalator, stand to the right so that people in a hurry can pass you.
3. Thank people for doing their jobs. It makes a big difference in their day.
4. Next time you're at a party, make an effort to include an outsider in your conversation.
5. Return phone calls within a maximum of 48 hours.
6. Learn the first names of your neighbors and get in the habit of asking them about their day.
7. If you have a dog, pick up its poop.
8. If you smoke, keep your butts out of the gutter.
9. Don't make the person on the other end of the phone more important than the person standing in front of you.
10. Begin every conversation - with your Mom, a collections agent, a cab driver or your ex-husband - with "How's your day been so far?" And listen to the answer, even if you don't care. Compassion is a muscle. Use it or lose it.