The culture war few people are talking about

I stopped by a younger co-worker’s office the other day and noted her desk tidiness.

“My office looks like Fred Sanford’s backyard,” I said.

“Huh?” she looked at me blankly. “Sanford?”

Just a week earlier I was meeting with someone who called to say she was running about 20 minutes late and she promised she’d be there any second.

“Yeah, and the Skipper said it was only going to be a three-hour tour.”

“Skipper? Three-hour tour?”

What’s a maturing sarcastic to do when staples of popology grow cobwebs? Where exactly is my generation’s line of demarcation when it comes to wit? What happens when pop culture references no longer get a Fonzie thumbs-up?

To me that’s the real cultural war taking place these days. A lot of folks talk about these battles in ideological terms. In some schools, for example, books once deemed classics are considered by some to be in a corner at Floyd’s Barbershop. And others see the newer material as a literary visit to the Bada Bing! ― as seen through the eyes of a 12-year-old.

My skirmish is generational, not ideological. The things I see as humorous, others ― read younger ― find about as enjoyable as a warm Zima. (Excuse me. Zima was the White Claw of its day.)

I’m thinking right around 2010 is when I started losing touch with popular culture, when Blockbuster was on its ending credits and thousands of streaming videos and channels began invading our senses like a zombie army. Oh, and 2010 was the same time “The Walking Dead” series debuted and proved Linda Blair didn’t have a market on growling, ghastly makeup and oddly colored bodily fluids. (“The Exorcist”.)

Sigh!

I hope there still are among us those who know about “The Bad News Bears,” can quote from “The Godfather” and “feel the need for speed” when they hear a certain Kenny Loggins song.

Think you’re old and possess a low pop culture quotient? See if you can figure out the references:

“You know $6 million would probably only get you a torso these days, not the entire man.”

“No matter how good a reputation a restaurant has, if the chef’s name is Hannibal, stick to cocktails.”

“Never get on a ship named Poseidon, ask for a shave by someone named Krueger or hire anyone named Jason to cut firewood.”

If you got them all, I thank you.

If you ever get into an argument over a parking spot, give the person you best snarl and say “Go ahead. Make my day.” and see what happens. Hopefully, they’ll know.

Wayne Price is director of communications at the Space Coast Health Foundation and a former journalist at FLORIDA TODAY.