Give the ‘tude a holiday rest

This may sound odd coming from L.A., the world capital of ego and affectation. But I’ve had it with attitude. Had it up to here.

Attitude is everywhere lately -- in sports, in movies, in nearly everything you see on TV. What’s the problem? Attitude is a poor substitute for substance, that’s what. It’s a slap in the face to manners, class and character.

Do I sound like your dad yet? Hey, sit down. I’m just warming up.

Yep, I’ve had it with ‘tude, dude. It’s just so rude. Attitude has weaseled its way into Christmas commercials and musical performances and onto the playing fields of our greatest gladiators.

We see it in touchdown dances and home run struts. The other night, I saw a linebacker hurl a referee’s flag into the stands. That’s what attitude has come to. It is the opposite of respect. The enemy of sportsmanship.

Attitude? It’s Mary J. Blige in that iPod commercial, flipping off the audience with the nod of her chin. It’s unwatchable award shows and a Super Bowl halftime performance where the singer nipples the nation. It’s the F-bomb at the multiplex and penis jokes on “Two and a Half Men.” Attitude is funny, right? Not so much. Hardly ever.

A lot of the stars we love are threatening to be undermined by attitude. Mr. Nicholson, you can wear your trademark shades whenever you like, sir, but it looks stupid and disrespectful at times, and we’d really prefer to see the devil in those eyes. Heeeeere’s Johnny? Where? Where’s Johnny? Hiding behind those shades, that’s where. Dude, what are you doing, sleeping?

Yep, shades are the surest danger sign of pretense, of an icky false bravado. Marching bands wear ‘em in the rain, fat moguls as they shimmy out of limos at midnight. Put the shades away, will you? Before you walk into a wall and crumple your nice trombone.

In the wrong hands -- and it is almost always in the wrong hands -- attitude can be a shameful thing. Britney has plenty of ‘tude, as do dozens of the smack-talking, hate-spewing rappers. And those awful pro wrestlers.

You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?

Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.

Attitude knows no ethnicity, no gender. It isn’t black, it isn’t white. Bully cops love attitude. And that good ol’ boy riding your bumper in his pickup truck has ‘tude coming out his tailpipe. Get out of my way, punk,” he’s saying. “I’m bigger than you, my time more important.”

Attitude is a mask worn by street hoods and bouncers and every other idiot with more brawn than brains. The wine industry is dripping in attitude, as are the French, who we generally disdain for putting on airs.

Yet our sports teams show up at the Olympic parade wearing shades and waving video cams. “How cool are we?” they’re saying, “Look at us, the envy of the world.”

Please. Just get over yourselves.

“Pop culture is just everywhere,” my 16-year-old daughter noted the other day, and you shrug and think to yourself, “Yeah, what else is new?”

Well, pop culture seems to have less and less interest in basic civility. It plays only to our outsized egos, to our street-gutter self-esteem. Once upon a time, Gary Cooper was a pop culture icon. Now we have Tyra Banks.

By the way, did you catch Miss Banks the other night, dressing down one of her contestants in that sniffy way she has, scolding the poor kid for being “defeatist” in her little dream to be “America’s Next Top Model”? “How dare you seem human?” Miss Banks seemed to be saying. “How dare you let down your phony-baloney false front.”

OK, I admit it: Now I sound like your dad. Rant, rant, rant. . . .

But maybe for the holidays, we could all just tone down the attitude? Take off the sunglasses, look people in the eye, nod politely. Summon a smile.

Yeah, maybe in the name of basic decency we say “Merry Christmas” and mean it. We remain patient with the store clerk. We hold the elevator just a second longer for the harried mom struggling with a stroller.

If it makes it any easier, remember that the most mythic figures of our time never needed attitude. They had a sense of style, sure, but also a quiet confidence. I’m talking about our most-beloved American heroes. Santa and Shrek, to be sure. Elvis Presley and Joe Montana, no doubt.

For them, talent and skill outweighed posturing. Mostly, they always had the courage to be who they really were.

And, really, how totally cool is that?

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Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.

For more columns, see latimes.com/erskine.