I don’t even know where to begin with David Brooks’ Tuesday column. Actually, I do. You see, he begins his column with lyrics from some current pop songs by Avril Lavigne, Pink, and some American Idol chickee. Whatever, I’m old too, and I’ve only heard one of the songs. But these songs are about young women who go out without escorts, enjoy getting drunk and generally act unladylike. Brooks goes on to say that this is all due to computers and MySpace and text messaging, and most of all - girls not getting married before 30 and not wearing chastity belts before marriage as it was back in the previous aught-seven.
Dana Goldstein cleverly points out that both Avril and Pink are under thirty and married. Touché.
I would also like to add that The Beatles didn’t actually live in a Yellow Submarine, nor was Mr. Roboto in point of fact, Kilroy. He was just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. Beyond his control. (Ask your parents.)
And all that is very cute. But the most interesting point to me is that on the very same day that Brooks is acting like he’s 150 years old, getting his panties in a twist over a lyricist who thinks “makes me go oh-oh” is not like, so whatever, the New York Observer is running a piece about the so-called New Victorians. It’s a story about the new trend of 20-something New Yorkers like Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams getting married early, running up real estate prices in Brooklyn by settling down in fancy brownstones, lumbering around town with their Maclaren prams and generally eating all the sushi in Park Slope. All the while managing to make it to age 30 without slashing tires or whoring around town.
So… I guess the questions is - How out of touch is David Brooks? Grandpa and Nana out of touch? Ronald Reagan out of touch? Or Kim Jong-il out of touch?