Legacies by Sal Moriarty

Everyone thinks about changing the world, but no one thinks about changing himself. Leo Tolstoy

Someone is sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago. Warren Buffet

Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy. Jesus Christ

Youth is wasted on the young. Originator unknown, but almost certainly some bitter dead guy.

YouTube, like every other digital platform, is a cornucopia of anger, belligerence and baloney. Lots of people owning and destroying, others just claiming to have open minds when it comes to the pyramids being built by aliens, or the moon landing being faked.

Recently, early on in the drinking process, I noticed something obvious on YouTube, which I'd missed before. A lot of the faces spouting end-of-the-world narratives, or fantastical conspiracies, looked a lot like me. That is to say, old American men. I'm talking about men fifty and up (being generous; average life expectancy for American men is about seventy-three years – you do the math).

These old-timers fall on all sides of the spectrum: Joe Scarborough, Tucker Carlson, Glenn Loury, Joe Rogan, Keith Olbermann (ugh), to name a few. There are also many not-so-ancient men out there inciting the masses – David Pakman and Ben Shapiro, come to mind – but, perhaps, there's still time for them.

Occasionally, I find myself agreeing with these long-in-the-tooth prognosticators (though watching Tucker Carlson, on Russian soil, pucker up to the hind quarters of that old KGB despot Putin was unpleasant viewing – and, to think, some people are still upset with the Dixie Chicks (sorry, The Chicks – speaking of simple minds).  Now, not all of these aged YouTubers are apocalyptic all of the time, but most are conspiratorial all of the time.

That said, I think it safe to say where they make bank – provoking working men and women, less gifted in show business, with harrowing predictions as to what will occur if the Bad Americans take over. This will be their legacy.

So, assuming these geezers (I can call them that, being a member) are not just in it for the bucks (not at all a foregone conclusion; follow the money, folks), why are they so torqued off – all the time?

Maybe the answer isn't complicated. Maybe, they're just your garden variety grumpy old men, angry the world is changing, and their influence on it, diminishing. Maybe, they just want to be young again, and failing that, are subconsciously (benefit of the doubt) trying to sabotage the hopes and dreams of the young, whom they cannot be.

There are real problems in this 21st century world. I get it, but there have always been problems in the world, only my dad didn't have access to social media during the Cuban Missile Crisis to blame this or that group of Americans for Soviet aggression. And they got through it.

I had a young friend back home in Louisiana. One night, we were sitting on the patio, shooting the bull. I'd had a few drinks and was feeling particularly gnarly about my lot in life (late at night, with liquor involved, you forget the source of most of your troubles are to be found in a mirror). I was ranting and raving, when something happened. I heard myself.

You see, my buddy was in his late twenties. Good job. Head on straight, nothing but possibilities in front of him, and I was telling him that life is a crock – all with topflight vodka in my drink, fifteen-dollar cigar in my hand, and two-hundred-dollar boots on my feet. I was, what you call, a colossal jerk.

In an epic one-eighty, I told my pal if we found ourselves in conversation again, me whining about my plight, he was to leave and never come back. I said something along the lines of, “Don't waste a minute of your precious time on a bum like that.”

He nodded.

Whatever legacy I leave for my friend, I want him to think of me and smile when I'm dead, not pity me for my boundless rage.

Footnote: I would encourage everyone to challenge, with a healthy dose of skepticism, your particular tribe. It don't happen much in America these days, and though I try to stay in my lane, I can tell those of you in other lanes, ya'll ain't no daisies neither (if you'll forgive the double negative).