Knackered Goes Tribal with Benzos

   Hey there, Knackered here.  When I was growing up in the baby boomer years of the 1950’s (at least 100 kids per block), every one of us could be found in our pajamas on Saturday morning on the living room floor.  Mesmerized in front of what my mother called the “idiot box”, we watched cartoons and super guy shows till lunch time.  There were no super girl shows yet; that type of awareness was way down the line.

   The ‘super people’ shows in those days featured figures that were not capable of climbing sky scrapers, zapping enemies with lasers, or flying around the atmosphere in Lycra (well, I guess Superman could).  Characters like Zorro, Davie Crocket, and Tarzan did a fine job of things without paranormal assistance.

   My favorite of the lot was Tarzan.  He had a female partner, Jane, and his faithful primate sidekick, Cheetah.  One of Tarzan’s main jobs was keeping the jungle peace between rich foreign guys on Safari and the indigenous African tribes who couldn’t stand them trespassing on their property.

   I always sided with the tribal groups.  The safari guys were elitist wimps who had no regard for any tribe other than their own.  Nevertheless, Tarzan always swung in to save their worthless keisters just in the nick of time.

   The parental instructions following the turning off of the TV and  a lunch of bologna sandwiches and Hi-C orange drink were: “Go play”.  None of us were let indoors until our ‘Father came home’.  Forced to the streets, we spent much of our young lives forming tribes, or as we called them ‘clubs’.  They all came with a set of rules for membership, a secret sign of some sort, and a backyard dwelling known as the ‘clubhouse’. (Ramshackle and torn down daily before ‘your father gets home!’

   At the time, I thought belonging to a tribe was a great thing.  It solidified our supporters, provided an escape, and a reason for sticking together.  Nowadays, I’m not sure at all about this.  Tribalism has come to provide a means of separation in political, religious, and suburban communities that is looking less and less like a good idea.   Rather than support, these entities tend to pull people apart as opposed to holding society together.

   We recently attended a community sponsored shredding event where folks had to wait in their cars while they advanced slowly into a parking lot that contained the paper drop off spot.

   It took awhile, and we wound up behind a car with a rear end splattered with bumper stickers.  The signage instantly described the passengers.  Apparently they were packing ‘heat’, against women’s rights of all kinds, convinced that the current POTUS was a fraud, all while being highly religious. It’s safe to say that we didn’t get out and introduce ourselves.

  Those of us reading this are part of a ‘tribe’ in a sense. One to which we never chose membership. But like the friends of Tarzan’s, we stick together and protect the turf. Because:  “People get lost in the Jungle everyday.” (Disney)