I’ve been thinking a lot about generation gaps and how my generation fits into the world. I’m of the generation with one foot in the past and one foot right up the ass of the nearest Millenial. We can remember getting trophies for being awesome while getting dick for being a benchwarmer. Our generation is most famous for cynicism and overall apathy. We don’t blindly accept anybody’s authority, but we understand that we’re cogs in a machine and that everything’s completely fubar’d. Also, we say “fubar.”
Right now we’re in our mid-30’s, and it’s time for us to take the world-reins I suppose, but those self-centered old-school authoritarian baby boomers just don’t want to hand anything over until they can be absolutely certain that they can screw us from the grave. And let’s face it, we’re not in a hurry to be making any decisions; we’re content to work the counter at the video store while waiting for the creepy manager to run off with a high-schooler. Ambition is not the hallmark of my generation. I was hoping that successful undermining and subversiveness would be the hallmark of my generation, but it’s going to take a really long time to erode the system with mere sarcasm and slacktivism. In the meantime, every annoying thing about life can somehow be traced back to those rotten baby boomers. They can barely use the internet, cell phones are confounding to them, none of them know how to type, and they utterly loathe Millenials (it’s a lot like how you hate your mom because you’re exactly alike). It’s come full-circle. And like a sad middle-child meme, in the center of it all, we’ve got my generation. Slackers, misfits, sarcastic middle children, adrift in a sea of first-world problems.
Anyway, I’m going to embrace my ennui and just stream-of-consciousness it and poach my own Facebook page right here:
When are men going to start wearing gold lamé half-shirts again? (Asking for a friend.)
Why is Arcade Fire calling themselves The Reflektors? (There is no right answer.)
Why don’t we have a professional haunted house/haunted corn maze in Chico? Because of police horses.
Why does Karen Potter have four mermaid costumes?
Canadian horror movies are a thing. A really weird thing, eh. It’s like they feel bad for scaring you so they just stop abruptly at the end of the movie and then the credits are just full of people saying, “sory.”
I’ve been watching scary movies all month and nothing I’ve seen so far has been more disturbing and horrifying than Preachers of L.A.
There was another huge earthquake in Japan. Get it together Japan.
Counting calories sucks because it’s all about self-loathing and math, the two worst things.
I just want to apologize in advance for my resting bitchface lately. It’s not you, it’s me. Well it’s some of you. (Baby Boomers)