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Originally Posted by TheEnforcer
Ok.. here goes. Politicans and parents have a fucking tizzy when games like Grand Theft Auto come out about how it's so horrible and causes violence in kids.. blah.. blah.. blah... but yet these very same people are too fucking lazy to learn about and use the ratings sytem that is on all games and make sure their kids aren't playing them.
It's the same thing with TV. There are ratings for every tv show and all the cable and satellite providers have locks and limits you can use oin your tv. Don't be so fucking lazy and learn how to use them.
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You will shortly get points for this.
I could say "ditto" and leave it at that...but I so rarely do.
Granted, I'm old and my memory may be faulty, but I don't remember my children having their own driver's licenses, cars, and most importantly, credit cards when they were teens. So...the one purchasing the games, CDs, DVDs, etc., etc. was either my husband or myself. And since we were doing the purchasing, at some point, we were holding said objects IN OUR HANDS. (Caps for emphases, although I do feel like screaming.) It wasn't all that difficult to actually look at the damned things and read the labels. It also wasn't at all difficult to turn to said child and ask about the items. I listened to the CDs I bought for them. My kids were cool that way. They loved sharing their music with their parents. (I found a *lot* of bands I wanted to own, and so did my husband. I don't think my youngest ever got her No Doubt CD back from him.) Same with everything, including video games, which I heartily despise. However, the game system and television were in the living room. Walking into the room would let me know what they were playing. So was the cable hookup. Monitoring what they watched was no big deal. Same with the computers.
The thing that causes inappropriate behavior in kids, especially teens, is having parents that are either never around or who don't give a damn.
It isn't a new phenomenon, either. When I was in high school, back in the stone age, a bunch of us were talking about making plans to do something. We all said "we'll ask our parents and let you all know." All except for one girl. Cheryl. A lovely girl, very nice, very smart. She said sadly "I can go. I don't have to ask. My parents don't care what I do." We just sat there and stared at her, open mouthed and in shock. We couldn't even get our teenaged heads around the concept of "parents don't care what I do." Not too suprisingly, Cheryl was the only one under psychiatric care and medication.
A bunch of hippies (yes, Timon, and proud of it, you missed a helluva decade) sat around trying to figure out a way to get away with putting out a hit on her parents but couldn't come up with one.