When you think of Captain America, do you imagine the muscular hero in blue tights, carrying a red-and-white shield, or do you think about the Captain America who rode his motorcycle to New Orleans, accompanied by his friend Billy as they were looking for freedom and “the answers”? Is it the comic book superhero who was born of our country’s need to unite against common enemies, or is it the rebellious counter-culture anti-hero born of a generation of resentment and disillusionment? The baby boomers most likely rooted for the man with the shield. The Generation X-ers possibly rooted for the drug runner on the bike. Much of my generation and the ones to follow probably find themselves shaking their heads, not knowing either one of them, assuming that “Captain America” must be some melodramatically patriotic, militaristic, über-masculine fanatic who serves as propaganda promoting the agendas of the government and special interests. They don’t want to hear about him, nor do they want to watch a film about him or read a book about him.
We once rooted for the Rudy Ruettigers of the world, but now it's the sort of characters that resemble the putz in the stands wearing a barrel, gaudy face-paint, and a rainbow colored wig. Maybe it’s a dog mask he wears. Whatever the case, our attention strays from the players on the field toward the sensational spectacles in the stands. We’d rather watch fights erupt beyond the confines of pitch or field or court than watch a miraculous come-from-behind victory.
The classic idea of the underdog has given way to the motif of the big bad dog with the spiked collar, one menacing fang hanging out of the side of its mouth. The look of this big bad dog tells you that it’s likely to bite the hand that feeds him, that it runs around the neighborhood killing people's cats and knocking up the bitches. The underdog is a cliché anymore. It surely is a cliché that doesn’t seem to be possible, and films and books that present the underdog achieving something are branded as being optimistic propaganda, trite works of manure that bear no deeper or worthwhile meaning. The big bad dog is cool and alluring, while the underdog is despicable and repulsive.
When did we begin to resent the men and women who actually achieve success in our world? When someone wins, society refuses to allow them the right to bask in their well-earned glory. Everyone starts asking for a piece of the champion’s pie, or at least the government goes ahead and takes its fair share. We envy the riches, fame, and honor of these success stories; it’s not that we look at them with awe and a feeling of inspiration. We outright stare them down, green with envy and angry that God hasn’t blessed us with such fortune.
Whereas green used to be the color of hope and of promise, now it's just the color of envy. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Jay Gatsby once looked across the bay at a mysterious green light. My take on this scene was that he was infused with hope and motivation by this light. It was a true inspiration, not a deceptive ruse. Gatsby pursued his dream and fell short because his chosen form of the dream was virtually impossible. The students who read The Great Gatsby now come away with the modernist cynicism that the dream itself is impossible, that the green light is illusory and can never be reached by anyone. In the end, Gatsby is dead and Daisy is gone and it rings true that you can't repeat the past.
What about our past? What about the history of America, which is full of underdogs and heroes who overcame the odds to win? There has to be some merit to the allure of the United States that has given faith and hope to the millions who migrated here in pursuit of their dreams. Kingdoms of all kinds of industry have been built upon the blood, sweat, and tears of countless great men and women. Surely we can rediscover -- not necessarily repeat -- the glorious accomplishments of our forefathers. Yet, it seems that the popular viewpoint is that all of these success stories are either fake or criminal. The kingdoms are built around blood stained castles that have been erected on mountains of the bodies of the oppressed.
Here's the fallacious mindset that I've seen clearly conveyed through the attitudes of my generation: Let the rich suffer a greater tax burden. I deserve more, so with the blessing of the anointed one and his congress and their promises of change, I'll expect my share to come from the pockets of others. I want my satellite television, my wireless internet, my smart phone, my premium beer, my Abercrombie jeans, and my Starbucks, but don't expect me to be able to afford to go to the doctor when I'm sick. I've got to put gas in my SUV and get a $25 haircut every two weeks. The rich are just lazy anyway. They're only rich because someone handed it them. It's nepotism that they’re in their present positions, or at least they got their starts from old family money. They don't deserve it, and they owe a larger share to our society simply because they can afford it.
Enough with the sarcasm. There's no validity to the claim that the rich just got their money because of family inheritance or nepotism, or that they're lazy, or that they owe a larger chunk than us all just because they're rich.
I want to ask a favor keep the facts and statistics and articles to yourself. I'm no economist; I'm talking culture. One doesn't need to have a PhD to talk about his or her own culture. One only needs to be observant and give in to rationality, and not emotions. All over the place you can find articles that have been written to support whatever position you may have adopted. These articles preach to the choir; they’re overwrought with manipulated numbers, biased surveys, slanted language, and all sorts of logical fallacies. They sell papers and magazines or they bring traffic to websites. We forget that our news and information sources are not always as objective as we'd like them to be.
Does anyone remember that the risk is incredibly high for one to find success? For every success story for every Rudy there are a hundred tales of heartache, suffering, and loss. The pursuit of the American dream is guaranteed. No one ever said that we'd get fair officials, good sports as opponents, adequate training and preparation time, and optimal field conditions. We don't always have good coaches along the way, either. And sometimes the officials are fair, our opponents respectable, prep time adequate, conditions optimal, and our coaches more than adequate and we still fall short. We become statistics, one of the hundred tales of woe instead of the heroic saga we all want.
As a culture, we seem to want personal glory, and we quite plainly demand pleasure. We stand up and fight for "justice." To fight for justice so that the underdog may see a ray of light and hope is a noble act in itself. However, the very tenet of justice crumbles when one man is expected to sacrifice more just because he can, just because some arbitrary consensus believes that his success stands in the way of the underdog's hope, even when that success is far removed from the underdog's plight.
