What LeSean McCoy tweeted to and about the mother of his son has been the topic of enough columns. The sports writers have it covered -- and covered well -- from what I've read.
As someone who won't be watching the Super Bowl, or any other football game, I'll stay out of the sports department, as least as far as the specifics go.
What it screams to me though is just another example of the lack of respect that permeates society. All this instant communication available to us makes it too easy to open mouth, insert foot, or tap keys, look like jerk.
No one has to be famous to play the game. Anyone can tweet, blog, Facebook or put their misguided and ignorant opinions on the Internet.
Sorry, but I don't call that progress.
Once upon a time people argued verbally. That's when our mothers used to tell us, "Sticks and stones can break my bones but names can never hurt me."
Now, if you're annoyed with someone, you shout it to the world using words that (had we known them at the time) would have brought our mothers running with a bar of soap. And I can tell you from experience, Ivory soap does NOT taste good.
Now people routinely throw out words like tramp, slut, ho or worse. If you take a page from McCoy's playbook, you can engage your followers to join in the fight, and they can lob these nasty names as well.
Go ahead, tell the world your ex or your former friend has a sexually transmitted disease or had an abortion or slept with four different guys last month. Brag that you didn't even know her name when you slept with her.
It doesn't have to be true, and you don't have to prove it. You can say whatever you want if it makes you feel better.
Oh, and the language. Unfortunately, I sometimes stumble upon certain relatives who watch the housewives of somewhere. Doesn't matter where. The shows all sound something like this, "You, bleep. You bleeping better keep your bleeping mouth shut or I'll bleeping shut it for you, you bleeping bleep."
Those bleeps are piercing noises. So that when I walk through the room, all I hear is the shrill noise of bleep, bleep, bleep.
How anyone is entertained by that, I will never know. But I blame the housewives and their ilk for teaching a generation that it is perfectly all right to be rude and crude and loud and simply horrid to others. The meaner you are, the greater your chance of finding your 15 minutes of fame.
It apparently has also become acceptable to call someone a word I will not type here, even though I probably could because I hear it on TV all the time, in prime time on network channels. It starts with a "d" and in my day was whispered when discussing feminine hygiene (which incidentally was discussed in hushed tones and was not the subject of television commercials).
Recently on "Two and a Half Men" the plot morphed into a song and dance routine with a chorus of "You're a d…., you're a d…." Really.
It seems nothing is off-limits anymore.
I don't consider myself a prude. I watch my share of shows on HBO and Showtime. I read books; I watch movies. I'm all for free speech.
But I'm starting to think that my mother's generation was right. Some things are better left unsaid or whispered in confidence.
Maybe the time is right to resurrect that bar of Ivory soap.
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