Fuddy Duddy? Moi?

Yesterday, when I was watching the advertisements that preceded the movie I had paid for, I thought “these people should be paying me to have to sit through this garbage.“ People around me were talking and paying no attention to the screen but I found that difficult to do –guess it’s the ADD. And I realized that maybe there was something (other than ADD), wrong with me.

In the Merriam Webster Dictionary, “fuddy duddy” is defined as someone who is old-fashioned, unimaginative, or conservative. None of those describe me. However, I am beginning to think I may be a closet ‘fudster’. You may ask what led me to this conclusion. And I would reply, “I find so much of what is called ‘pop culture’ annoying. Even the word annoying, is a little ‘fuddy.’ I might have said irritating, bothersome or troublesome, but no matter what word you use, it is still a little fuddy.”

OK, maybe I don’t find all pop culture irksome, so I will be more specific. The idea of calling someone who appears as themselves on a reality show, a TV star and watching a reality show that brings out the worst in people, like all the Housewives of wherever, is offensive. I find women (or men) getting into fist fights over a rumor or a difference of opinion, appalling. I also find the exploitation of children, unforgivable – and to explain it away by saying “it’s all they have ever known,” is ridiculous. It’s like saying that if you beat your child every day they will be fine because that’s what they expect. And I guess they never realize it was a bad thing until the beatings stop. But by that time the damage is done and often irreparable. I find the slap stick contests, where the spectacle of people being humiliated, just as awful as the programs where young, rich, spoiled brats get to reveal what incredibly horrible adults they will eventually become. And I have to say that I find the ass in “Dance Your Ass Off” less than charming – the show is also questionable but not as awful as the name.

I love my computer and Face Book and You tube, but I miss actually receiving a letter or postcard from a friend by snail mail. For the most part, people don’t write letters anymore. Not love letters, or hate mail. I used to save all the memorable letters I got from old boyfriends and entertaining colleagues. I liked the idea that once I was gone, my kids would go through my letters and things and discover how really cool I was.

Maybe it’s just me (probably not maybe), but I don’t get the new obsession with getting a tattoo.. For a while I didn’t understand how tattoo parlors stayed in business, but they do it by tattooing numbers of people who obviously do get it. The small and well placed tattoo, I almost get. Like a little butterfly on your tush or a little flower on your thigh. But the big ones that cover an entire body or body part – make no sense at all. First of all it must be painful to have them carved into you skin. And yes, I am a pain wuss. But second, if you get tattooed when you’re young and change your mind when you get older, it’s even more painful to have it removed – or you have to live with it forever and ever.

In addition to advertisements in movies, degrading or perverse reality shows, absence of snail mail and tattoos, I don’t enjoy unnecessary sex and bad language when I am watching TV or a movie… note I said unnecessary – sometimes it is essential. I love all kinds of music except the kind that promotes violence against women – because I do think people are moved and impacted by tunes they like. I don’t believe in censorship but I prefer truth over speculation in my journalism. And I find it disgusting that someone like Ann Coulter, who has never done anything but train to be a mouthpiece for a political view and write hateful lies, is given any time on a news show. Oh, I could continue down this path to disapproving too many things, but I think I’ll stop before I start to feel like I am my mother admonishing me about my choice of clothes, music, actions and sometimes friends. Let’s face it, if you’re not careful you can easily become part of the fuddy duddy crowd. And I think that may be a sign that you’re getting old – uh oh.. I guess I better just stop thinking about it. We’re just sayin’…Iris