A more beautiful day than this, here in central New Jersey, can hardly be imagined–sapphire sky, birds calling, grass and leaves a brilliant bright green, sunny but not too hot–
And again, not a single free-range kid to be seen. Not one.
I don’t mean to keep beating on this drum, but I can’t help it. It’s so queer and unnatural not to see and hear children playing outside on a day like this. I think it must be the single most unnatural thing about our current popular culture, which is notable for having a lot of unnatural things about it.
Oh, I know where the children are. They’re either indoors at home, playing video games all day, or else they’re in supervised “programs” all day.
Question: At what point does the supervision end? At what point does the child grow up and become able to act on his own? Or does that point just never happen? Maybe when you’re 31 years old, your parents and your teachers hand you over to the government for supervision. And so it never ends. You never stand on your own two feet. There’s always someone standing over you to tell you what to do. To take care of you.
Someone to be obeyed.