Getting older has some positives — like knowing you’ll be dead before anyone in Gen Z is in a position of power — but things sure get confusing. Perhaps it’s having grown up in a time when talent was necessary to achieve fame, men competed against men in athletic events, and politicians were allowed to be self-serving, power-hungry, assholes – but at least needed to be on the un-intubated-side of a coma.
So many confusing things today, though …
For starters, TikTok challenges baffles us older folks. In pursuit of “clicks,” kids are literally dying … in droves. They eat Tide-Pods, fall off cliffs and buildings trying to take selfies – and one poor lad died recently from eating a ghost-pepper potato chip. I joined the Marines, and ergo committed myself to dying for my country – but death by detergent and snack foods just doesn’t have the same ring.
If I was an “influencer,” I’d make up my own challenge to the TikTok youth: Pull up your pants, turn your hat around (ahem), and get a job. Maybe I’d offer a second challenge, daring them to read a book before they vote. Any book. Charlotte’s Web would be sufficient, and if they enjoyed that, maybe they could explore more about rural life and symbolism by reading Animal Farm.
Actors shrieking their politics are also odd to us old people. Hollywood’s long been overflowing with insecure leftists twerps, but back in the day they had the sense to keep their 11th-grade educated mouths shut. In the words of the wise Michael Jordan, “I don’t talk politics, because everyone buys sneakers.”
Look: An actor plays dress-up-and-pretend for a living. They recite words someone else wrote. They are told by a director where and how to stand, and what facial expressions to use. I mean, there are dogs who are fine actors. And while I certainly cried when Old Yeller died, I wasn’t crying because that gunshot silenced his insights into quantitative easing.
Reality TV is also a mystery. There’s more ad-libbing in a Broadway production of Death of a Salesman than in a “reality” TV show. Scripts are written, and the “characters” are provided with any and all lines requiring drama, humor insight or self-reflection. Yet the youth of America eat it up.
You youngsters want real drama? Next Thanksgiving, set up your smart phone to record, and spew your political views between bites of the meal your folks paid for. Wait until the adults are a few drinks in, and declare your belief that America’s open borders and defund-the-police policies are good things. Note, however, you might be asked how many dollars you pay in taxes to support the millions of illegal arrivals — and will likely be denied your dessert if your defense is along the lines, “I’m rubber and you’re glue! Whatever you say bounces of me, and sticks to you!”
Don’t get too upset, though. After Dad has ordered to your room in the basement, Mom will probably sneak you some dessert when she brings your evening tomato soup and grilled cheese sammich.
Anonymous keyboard crusaders and their sad boiling hate are also a bit hard for us to understand. It wasn’t that long ago one of America’s great maxims was, “You are free to say anything you want, but you aren’t free from the consequences that follow.”
Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, if you wanted to insult or correct someone, you wanted your name attached to it, provided your insult or correction was based in logic and facts. You wanted credit for your insights when you knocked a know-it-all down a couple pegs. You wanted them to know, “Yeah, it’s me calling you out.”
Why @WritingFromMySafeSpace thinks anyone cares what they have to say is ponderous. I can only assume they want a layer of anonymous protection between their real name and their half-witted verbal diarrhea … lest someone who knows them realize they are in fact as moronic as they appear in real life.
“Not showing up for work” is yet another mystery to those of us over forty. In our world, if an employer offered you money in exchange for your time and toil, it was deemed fairly sacred. He made the offer, and you accepted. You could quit, of course, but the idea of simply calling and saying, “I won’t be in today,” was tempered by the reality of the second half of the sentence, which is, “so someone else will have to do my work, because I’m a self-absorbed little dick.”
I do think it’s pretty hilarious Millennials are now aging into management roles in the retail, F&B, and service industries, and are now dealing with “themselves” as employees. If you’re one of them, put on your helmet … Gen Z will soon be your work force.
Neck tattoos on college students are another thing that somehow fails to compute. As hard as it is to believe, there will come a time in life when you’ll want to move up and on from being a sandwich artist — and if a Boomer or Gen X boss needs to hire a new 6-figure hot shot, odds are he’ll ponder, “I wonder who my Boomer and Gen X clients will better relate to? This sharp-looking kid? Or the kid with the Chinese symbol for sour milk on his neck?”
Gender, of course, is a biggie — but I’ve expressed my views on that. So let me ask this simple yet confusing-to-us-old-people question about drag queen story hour: If they are going to selflessly sacrifice their time to read to children, why don’t they read to adults at homeless shelters? To old people, trapped in the hell of Medicaid nursing homes? To inner city kids in their horrifying Section 8 neighborhoods, who don’t have transportation to a local library? To adults in addiction treatment centers? To adults attending local meetings of the DNC?
Why is it always and only to children?
It’s a rhetorical question, of course. Everyone knows the answer … the same way they know why parents at a school board meeting are shut down for obscenity, when in fact they’re simply reading from a book in a middle-school library.
One thing I can understand, however, is young people’s feeling of hopeless about the future. The elected Boomers — left and right — have simply bought their own re-elections through unthinkable levels of spending, most of it on full-retard pork, earmarked to go back home, thus ensuring their sheep will re-elect them.
The only thing worse than what the Boomers have done to Gen Z and the Millennials… the only thing that could make the future even bleaker … is what the Gen Z and the Millennials are planning to do to themselves.
Their plan to save the nation is based on one talking point: Tax the rich for “their fair share!”
I’m not rich. That sounds good to me. And I say, “To hell with that. Let’s just seize all their money and call it a day. It would be a blow for social justice, economic justice, and would, you know, teach those greedy bastards a lesson. Show ‘em who’s boss.”
Surely the math will work. Let’s see ... in 2020, the federal government spent $5.4 trillion dollars. The top 13 richest people in America are worth around $1 trillion. So if we seized all their money, that could pay for — hell, more than a fiscal quarter! If we seized all the money of the top 1,000, we’d be covered for over a year … maybe two!
During that “free” year or two, all us working stiffs could chip in some extra jack with our tax returns, and we’d easily raise enough to offer free healthcare, free college, a conversion to an all-electric economy, allow unlimited immigration, expand entitlements to everyone making less than $250,000, and cut the breasts off every Tomboy in America.
As I said, us older folk find many things today to be extremely confusing. The ways of young whipper-snappers baffle us. What baffles us the most? Their plan to fix the situation.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR ...
Prioleau Alexander is a freelance writer, focusing mostly on politics and non-fiction humor. He is the author of four books: ‘You Want Fries With That?,’ ‘Dispatches Along the Way,’ 'Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?' and 'They Don't Call It The Submission Process For Nothing.' Oh, and if you want to see his preferred bio pic? Click here …
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