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Wil Wheaton's piece on the discord within his family is troubling not for the revelation of a dysfunctional family - who doesn't belong to a family of similar, or even greater, dysfunction? The disturbing aspect of Mr. Wheaton's piece is the impunity with which he plays himself as the good guy against the backdrop of intolerance and small-mindedness of his father. Is his writing honestly so important to him that he will bare this dysfunction without hesitation? Is his only remorse that his father has come to represent all that is distasteful about an opposing political viewpoint?
When did we, as a nation, become so obsessed with ourselves that we, in the most casual and frivolous manner, exploit the weaknesses and foibles of those who should find our confidence most secure? When did we become so comfortable turning our backs on relationships, however dysfunctional, that have been nurtured over decades?
It is not the routine dysfunction of Mr. Wheaton's family that sets his piece apart, but his unabashed willingness to feign dignity and reason in the writing of a piece that is simply cheap exploitation.
