Mama Tried, You Failed

3 posts

Niccolo and Donkey
Mama Tried, You Failed

Taki's Magazine

Gavin McInnes

March 25, 2011


Mama Tried ” is a popular prison tattoo and a tear-jerking Merle Haggard country ballad.

The 1968 classic tells the tale of Merle breaking his mother’s heart by going to jail:

It reminds me of a very poignant article (in PDF format HERE ) called “Mama’s Hoods” by good friend and ex-con Robbie Dillon. The gist is that he’s always been a bad kid and it’s nobody’s fault but his. “She plays scenarios over in her mind,” he says of his mother’s frustration over his penchant for bank-robbing, “wondering what would have happened if she had been nicer, or tougher or spent more time at home baking cookies. I have very few regrets, but some of the bleakest involve this ugly sack of doubt and guilt my mother has been forced to lug around.”

Nobody talks like that anymore. If you’re unemployed or addicted to drugs, it’s somebody else’s fault. Laziness and self-indulgence have morphed into one big illness we all caught from mom’s sloppy butt-wiping techniques. The A&E show Intervention recently featured a pathetic old turd named Michael who abandoned his family to pursue a career in crystal meth. As always, the show goes through his family photo albums until it finds some donkey’s ass on which to pin the blame.

In this case, it’s his mama’s fault because she sent him away to foster care at 16 after several years of his drug abuse and legal scrapes. She said she wanted him to see that actions have consequences. How dare she? Oh, and also, his father didn’t love him enough. Way to go, dad. Michael was shirking responsibility and enjoying drugs years before and after his two years of foster care, but that doesn’t fit the A&E narrative. In the past, the show featured a woman who turned to pills after a sex video of her was passed around the high school (gasp). When A&E can’t find some juicy sex scandal to blame, they’ll settle for the inevitable divorce that left whatever poor child with no other choice but to replace his or her part-time dad with a full-time drug habit. Hey, A&E, about half of the population has seen their parents divorce, and most of them turned out all right. Look at Michael’s three children. They went through a lot more than a divorce. Their dad regularly disappeared on three-day meth benders. Where’s their TV show? Where are their therapists blaming dad for all their troubles? The end of the episode features Michael enjoying the view at an overpriced rehab while simultaneously forgiving his terrible parents for making him into a terrible parent. What a mensch.

The Independent was a New York newspaper from 1848 to 1923. They regularly interviewed locals and transcribed their life stories. Reading about pre-WWI immigrants and the ordeals they were forced to endure makes you want to put every modern addict on a boat and send them back to their ancestral homeland. In 1902 The Independent featured the story of Rocco Corresca , a young man from Italy who was originally raised by nuns but was kidnapped by a criminal at age eight and forced to beg for a living in Naples. He escaped the night before they were going to make him into a cripple (the mind boggles at the thought of routinely making children into cripples as a business strategy) and eventually he made his way to New York, where he escaped a few more hustlers and started a shoe-shine chain with his lifetime buddy at age nineteen. He could have been addicted to murdering prostitutes and eating their skin and we’d forgive him, but he didn’t. He didn’t blame any of the disgusting reprobates that invaded his life. He just dusted himself off and kept going. That’s the way it worked before screwing up was considered a disease. Now it’s all mommy’s fault.

But it isn’t mommy’s fault. Your mother can’t even influence what you eat . In Free-Range Kids author Lenore Skenazy shows exactly how little influence we have over our spawn. She was vilified in 2008 for letting her nine-year-old son take the subway home alone. Even though he lived, she is still referred to as “America’s worst mom.”

I’ve known dozens of junkies over the years and they were all egocentric. They lie and cheat and steal and if you provide them with any kind of excuse for their awful behavior, they’ll cook it up and shoot it into their veins.

“Mama loved me so much, she smothered me and I was left with no survival skills. Now I need drugs to cope.”

“Mama didn’t love me enough and now I need to synthesize the feeling of warmth because I’ve never felt it naturally.”

“Mama was too lax and let pot become a gateway drug that inevitably led to the hard stuff.”

“Mama was too strict and heroin became a way to escape the stress of her iron fist.”

Ironically, the only way most of these junkies get clean is when mom cuts the cord and says, “Sink or swim.” After they get clean, you ask them what all that was about and they say, “I don’t know. I was full of shit. You should have punched me.” Nobody has less tolerance for junkies than ex-junkies. In fact, they are some of the few people I know who don’t buy this whole “it’s a disease” myth. After spending years wallowing in bullshit, they develop a very low tolerance for it.

I’m not saying your parents have no influence over your life. Being physically or sexually abused catapults the victim over the Wall of Culpability into the land of Not Your Fault, but what’s everyone else doing there? Your mother didn’t dole out the proper number of hugs and you think it’s her fault you’re committing slow-motion suicide? Today’s “different but equal” culture has provided those who are “different and subpar” a way to justify their terrible choices, but Michael’s mother was right. Actions have consequences. Junkies aren’t victims and they aren’t ill. They’re selfish liars who need a kick in the ass. The end.
That type of thought can only be the spoiled child of secular humanism and psychoanalysis, the materialist ideas of human character and its scientific approach of nature or nurture. It strips people down to mechanistic and, paradoxically, objectified individuals. But in music and the lyrics like the Merle Haggard song exemplified we hear a personal sentiment that also attests to an innate, unchangeable character, but instead the type that suggest people actually have some kind of Soul --the origins of which are inexplicable, unlike the reasoning that one is the product of their environment. It is Religious and Romantic in nature in contrast to the base, disgustingly simplistic way one can blame their upbringing or society for their persona, situation, behaviour. If a cow could think it would blame the slaughterhouse for being born.

" They regularly interviewed locals and transcribed their life stories. Reading about pre-WWI immigrants and the ordeals they were forced to endure makes you want to put every modern addict on a boat and send them back to their ancestral homeland."

I support this, always have. I'm willing to go. Too bad it's only theoretical. Where though to send people of mixed heritage, the Balkans?

The disagreement I have is with the example used in this article. Many people who have taken into addiction, with unemployment and poverty following, have endured a lot more suffering compared to many who criticize them when both are from first world countries abundant in resources available to almost all. That's the case whether they take personal responsibility or not. It would do a good lesson just as well for the upwardly mobile ambitious class to be sent to some form of labour camp or prison for awhile. The well-adjusted and financially successful also find scapegoats for their petty neurosis, pseudo-depressions and whatever else should trouble their minds after having all the basic necessities of life covered. Junkies, of reprehensible characters or not, actually have real issues. It’s important to remember that people who are successful also have their parents and ancestors to “blame” for being born into good-standing and fine-breedin’ and they didn’t get where they are solely by their personal character and efforts. To summarize that thought: being grateful is superior to whining. No shit.


All fault, your own and that of others, is with God.