I was in my car one day when a young boy pulls up next to me blasting the most recent rap song, from the newest thug on the music scene. He was very enthusiastically, yet aggressively, shaking his head. If I hadn’t heard the music, I would have thought he was getting water out of his ears. I felt instant pity for his head. I can’t begin to wonder how his brain handles the constant rattling.

I must admit, the new breed of youngsters frightens me: what they’re being exposed to and at how young of an age they are being exposed to it.

Rehab has become “in.”

High society priveleged teens are the associates held out to impressionable young ones on evening dramas. 

Current radio tunes, and the djs who sell them, tout nightclubs and promote the normalcy of partying and drugs. With no apparent consequences.

Why can’t we just tap our red slippers together with Dorothy and say “There’s no place like home.” And vanish the gangsta rap and the mindless bobbing heads that gobble up the newest Soldja Boy song that sounds curiously similar to his last hit song. Maybe then we can start to teach our children how to live, without allowing their associates, music and television to do it for us.

Wait a minute… why don’t we start now?