When the Joke Undermines the Family: The Hidden Cost of Mocking Parents on Screen

Last night I watched Young Sheldon. It was funny. Well-written. Even heartwarming at times. But beneath the wit, something gnawed at me.

As with many modern shows, the laughs often come at the expense of the adults. The parents are overly religious, emotionally volatile, or just plain clueless. And Sheldon — the child — is framed as the voice of reason of course with some flaws for comedic relief.

We might brush this off as harmless comedy. But over time, what does it teach children?

Cultural Drift: From Reverence to Ridicule

Across today’s entertainment, there's a growing pattern: Children are portrayed as more enlightened than their parents — while the adults who care for them are framed as obstacles to freedom or growth.

This dynamic may entertain, but it quietly reshapes how children view authority — and more importantly, how they treat it.

A Pew Research Center study found that 66% of parents believe parenting is harder today than it was 20 years ago. Many cite screen exposure and cultural confusion as the key challenges. And they’re right to worry.

When Disrespect Boomerangs

What starts as mockery of others often becomes mockery of self. Here’s how:

- Children learn to laugh at authority to feel powerful.

- Over time, they begin to fear being vulnerable themselves — afraid they too will be laughed at.

- Some learn to mock others before they can be mocked, while others withdraw completely — both strategies aimed at self-protection rather than authentic expression.

Psychologists call this projection — deflecting inner fear by attacking it in others, or withdrawing entirely, while imagining the world is judging them just as harshly as they judge themselves.

This cultivates a generation that struggles with:

- Insecurity masked by sarcasm,

- Fear of failure dressed as cynicism,

- And emotional disconnection from those meant to protect them.

It’s not just theory.

- Over 50% of teens say their parents often ignore them due to phone use — a trend called “phubbing” that’s linked to emotional distance and behavioral problems.

- When parents are portrayed as clueless in media, and dismissed in life, kids begin to see all authority as undeserving of trust.

- Around 15% of teens experience cyberbullying — and those affected are twice as likely to self-harm.

The environment created by mockery — even comedic mockery — encourages performance, not authenticity.

So while kids may laugh at bumbling adults on screen, they quietly become afraid to be seen as anything less than perfect themselves. That’s not just unfortunate — that’s damaging.

And this is where storytelling must evolve.

What I Intend to Do About It

I’m not against humor. Or critique. Or even rebellion — when it’s honest and earned.

But we’re living in a time when mockery is cheap and widespread, and reverence is rare. So through Feel Good Films, I’m choosing a different path:

- To tell stories where parents aren’t perfect, but they are worthy of love.

- Where elders have wisdom — even if it comes with flaws.

- Where children can question without needing to ridicule.

- And where vulnerability is strength, not something to be laughed at.

Because I believe stories shape culture — gently, persistently, profoundly.

We don’t need propaganda. We need truthful beauty. Not scolding. But remembering.

A Simple Invitation — to Parents and to Kids

If you’re a parent, consider this: Watch with your children. Talk about what you see. Don’t just ask “What did you learn?” — ask “What did you feel?” Because feelings shape beliefs more than lectures ever will.

If you’re a young person, ask yourself: Is the show teaching me courage or sarcasm? Is it training me to grow — or to mock? And if you don’t like how adults are shown, don’t just laugh. Create better.

We all absorb what we watch. So let’s be conscious of what we let shape us.

Because behind every laugh, a value is being formed. Let’s make sure it’s one that honors, uplifts, and unites.

The Culture That Is America: Fading Fast or Worth Fighting For?

Grateful to Be Here, Among People

Lately, I’ve felt deeply grateful — not just to be alive, but to be surrounded by people. Friends, family, strangers — all of humanity adds something to the richness of life.

During a recent workshop, I raised an idea: even the person we might dislike contributes to our well-being. That stranger you don’t get along with? They might be managing a store that ensures your groceries reach your doorstep. Our collective needs shape the world around us. We are more interconnected than we realize.

The person who honked angrily in traffic, who doesn’t look how we expect, who eats or dresses differently — each one helps build the mosaic that is America.

What Is the Culture of America?

At first, I thought many of us who arrive in America from other parts of the world bring along emotional baggage — prejudices, caste and class attitudes, superiority complexes, victim mentalities — and we don’t leave them at the border. Instead of embracing the freedom this land offers, we recreate the very structures of oppression and division we fled from.

But then I looked deeper — at long-time residents, the so-called “majority.” I saw division there too. Infighting. Identity conflicts. Power struggles. Political fragmentation. Even those who’ve been here for generations seemed to be drifting from a shared sense of culture.

And from that reflection emerged a simple but potent truth:

America’s culture is a culture of effort. Of building one’s life through purposeful work. Of minding one’s own business and letting others do the same.

In every religion, every ethnicity, every shade of skin, there are people who do good, and those who do harm. But we often forget this. We’re drawn to those who look like us, and that affinity can blind us to fairness and truth. It leads to groupism, favoritism, and resistance to unity.

The Real American Ethic: Effort Over Entitlement

When we embrace the true culture of America — to strive, to build, to earn, and to uplift ourselves — this truth becomes clear: life flourishes when grounded in responsibility.

In many parts of the world, life is mortgaged to social expectations, misunderstood sacrifice, or false compassion. These obligations often masquerade as moral duties, draining the productive for the benefit of the entitled — whether in politics, business, or among the poor.

When I came to America, I felt something I hadn’t before: freedom. And from India, I brought something essential: responsibility.

Letting go of the belief that I owed something to those who simply chose not to try — that was liberating. I realized that giving to others must be a choice, not an obligation. Compassion isn’t compliance.

Freedom Needs Responsibility — Or It Will Vanish

The strongest cultures are built not on charity alone, but on earned living, self-respect, and productive contribution.

Perhaps the boomer generation in America understood this well. They lived the balance of responsibility and freedom. But in their love, they overcorrected — giving too much to their children and grandchildren. And in that comfort, seeds of entitlement were sown.

I learned something invaluable from them — not just the strength of freedom, but how it is preserved:

By pairing freedom with responsibility — and knowing clearly what we are and are not responsible for.

I don’t know if I could’ve learned this anywhere else. America became my own, not by accident, but by realization.

The Culture We Must Protect

To protect America is not just to defend borders. It is to defend her culture — a culture where:

• People earn their way

• Live meritoriously

• Give charitably by choice, not by pressure

• Resist being exploited in the name of need

This culture is, and always has been, under attack. In America, it survived longer than most. But that survival is no longer guaranteed.

The shift is happening — from producers to receivers, from effort to entitlement, from merit to dependence. This shift has undone countless cultures. America is not immune.

We Shape the Culture — With Every Choice

Culture isn’t static. It’s alive — shaped daily by our choices, our values, and our actions.

If we want to keep the beacon of freedom alive, we must hold on to the roles that made this land exceptional:

• The independent thinker

• The self-driven entrepreneur

• The builder

• The responsible citizen

These are not just romantic ideals — they are necessities.

A Final Reflection

When you fully understand what this culture — the culture that is America — really is, you see it as one of the greatest gifts in human history. And when you understand that, you cannot help but revere her. And fight, not with violence, but with conviction, to protect her.

We all have a choice.

Let it fade… or fight to keep it.

The Mistaken Saint - Ayn Rand & the Misread Spirit of the East

“But his sister Ivy Starnes was worse. She really did not care for material wealth… she went about in scuffed, flat-heeled shoes and shirtwaists—just to show how selfless she was. She was our Director of Distribution. …She held us by the throat.” — Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Ivy Starnes represents the endpoint of ideological denial. Her incense, slogans, and empty rhetoric form a ritualistic defense against responsibility. She cannot admit that her system failed because admitting failure would destroy her identity.

Ayn Rand, through characters like Ivy Starnes in Atlas Shrugged, captures the consequences of twisting values into virtue-signaling performances. Ivy stands as a symbol of what happens when work is not honored, when ideology becomes a shell for denial, and when spirituality is mistaken for moral posturing.

Rand may not have explicitly called this a misreading of Eastern philosophy, but it bears a striking resemblance to one. Some in the West have developed a distorted idea of what Eastern thought—especially Indian philosophy—represents. And that distortion may or may not be innocent.

We form our identity through our choices—how we want to live.

The gold standard for that identity? Earning.

Not merely effort, but effort directed to create a meaningful outcome—purposeful action that creates value.

Some minds—due to genetic disposition or trauma—cannot connect the dots between action and a principled meaning. Others—especially those who grew up observing emotionally absent but materially successful parents—reject work altogether. They wrap their detachment in moral superiority, call it simplicity, and hide behind a veil of spirituality.

They denounce wanting without understanding that the effort to achieve one’s healthy wants is honorable—even as their own wants are met by others who work.

They take refuge in rituals and incense, slogans about self-sacrifice, and abstract moralism, while conveniently skipping the parts of Eastern thought that require clarity, effort, and integrity.

Karma Yoga: The Sacredness of Work

Take the Bhagavad Gita, for instance. The great Indian scripture does not teach escapism. It doesn’t teach renunciation of action. It teaches right action.

Krishna tells Arjuna: Do your duty. Fight the battle. Act without attachment to results.

This is not a call to abandon work. It is a call to transcend egoic reward-seeking while staying firmly committed to purposeful labor. To treat work as worship.

That is Karma Yoga: the path of selfless action.

Not inaction. Not withdrawal. And certainly not passive consumption disguised as virtue.

Comfortable detachment is not simplicity.

Simplicity costs. Someone always pays.

When your meals, shelter, and clothes are provided for by others, your rejection of wealth means very little.

True simplicity is earned, not posed.

Earning as a Spiritual Act

There is no contradiction between wanting and wisdom. Humanity did not evolve by sticking to basic needs. Our progress is powered by wants that led to great innovations—wants for beauty, mobility, taste, comfort, speed, connection.

Wanting is not wrong.

The real danger is not in wanting.

It’s in wanting without willingness to earn and without directed, focused effort that carries one’s willingness into action.

So let’s honor work.

Let’s honor purpose.

And let’s reclaim the sacred in both.

There is dignity in building a table.

There is divinity in crafting a song.

There is depth in making a garden grow.

And all these come from effort.

The Bhagavad Gita does not sanctify stagnation.

It sanctifies movement—with awareness, with integrity.

Let Ivy Starnes be a cautionary tale. Not a villain. A mirror.

To anyone who takes pride in not needing,

without ever having built,

without ever having given,

without ever having served.

Let us not confuse emptiness with enlightenment.

Let us not mistake the mask of a saint for the spirit of the East.