Blame Fred

I blame Fred Rogers for the most pernicious American affliction. With the best of intentions, he convinced several generations of children that they're special just because they're them.

And now, sure enough, we have a society of people who feel special for being just them. And it's killing us. Fred broke everything.

I keep meeting Americans with nothing to offer. They aren't funny or smart or charming or kind or helpful or interesting. Lacking a personality, they speak only tribal talking points. They're extraordinarily bored - and thus extraordinarily boring - and utterly empty.

In a recent posting about moving to Portugal, I wrote:

Ideally by adulthood a person has passions and pursuits. And/or some ability to kindle social engagement. If you have none of those things - if you're a passive, undeveloped blob of weepy hope - stay in Long Beach or Tacoma.

They move to Portugal hoping it will invest them with...something. Anything. Like flaccid puppets, they imagine a new locale will pull their strings and conjure a show for them to star in. It's a level of shameless passivity normally seen only in the most frothy aristocracies - the ones immediately preceding reigns of terror.

They're all just sort of...there. They self-present - "Here I am!" - and await fueling. And it's fine, really, except for their unshakeable conviction that this suffices. Convinced to their very marrow that they are special just for being them, they don't need to try. Nobody tries.

Even if they did, there's no "there" there; nothing solid to draw from. It takes decades to develop usefulness.

Fred Rogers never meant to create a society filled with people born on third base who feel like the only real player on the field. But that's precisely what he did, and now it's not such a beautiful day in the neighborhood!