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Archive for the tag “Baby On Board”

20) Letter to Baby Boomers From Gen-X

Dear Baby Boomer,

We are Generation X or whatever you want to call us. We are the youth of the nation… or were. We don’t give a R.I.P. Our destiny is written on the wall, starting with civilization. We are nihilistic by nature because no one wanted us to be here…

Never mind. We seek Nirvana, a place in the world to shelve our Trapper Keepers, our tear-stained journals of rage, our misunderstood expression of anger toward a world with no future lodged in the throat of Sid Vicious, a casualty to the Boomer drug experimentation legacy. Thanks for the bump.

Oh, the 1970s… a putrefied pustule on the zit of history, like a Halloween pumpkin rotting in late December.

The 1970s

The 1970s

We don’t blame you, Boomers. You were just another generation among many, going way back. We can see far down the pike of human existence and we are uniformly disgusted with all human beings, including ourselves. So, don’t take it personally. You just happened to give us a lot of stupid, frivolous, narcissistic doo-doo that doesn’t matter a hill-of-beans to any human dead or alive… but we aren’t taking names or numbers, just sharpening our secondhand pencils for another round of philosophical debate.

Don’t worry. We have your best interest in mind, along with your children even though they were loved more than us. We slam danced in the backseat of our parent’s VW bugs, smacking our heads up against the windows and flying headfirst into the dashboard when our father hit the brakes. Honestly, we have no deep-seated anger that our own parents didn’t flash that cute little “Baby On Board” sign when they drove us around without seatbelts or car seats. We just laughed it off and stuck our stuffed Garfield plush dolls in the trunk with the butt sticking out to show we have a healthy sense of humor.

Okay, let me explain the whole “punk” thing. It’s not about talent, you silly Boomer. It’s about revolution. I know you know what that is. You don’t understand our music because it’s too painful to listen to and reflects the existential dark matter of human misery that we feel every day. Yes, that’s right. Our music feels bad and sounds bad to you because we feel worse than you could ever imagine. To us, your music sounds like the Intro to Loony Tunes.

We were left alone, watching MTV videos in the middle of the night sucking on Nerds candy, waiting for our parental units to come home, too tired to fix us dinner and so we make ourselves another crappy box of Mac & Cheese. We are born into a world of sustained horror, greed, AIDS, useless politics, and recessions that fall like dominoes every time we try to move up in the world from a cardboard box. We have never felt that anyone owes us anything and only want a better world for everyone. So, we deserve a break today.

Be nice. Give us a hug. That’s all we ask.

With love and adoration,

Generation X


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15) Marcia, Marcia, Marcia — Gen-X Is Jan Brady

If Gen X is truly the middle child, then many anecdotes about our generation can be found on The Brady Bunch, specifically in the character of middle child, Jan Brady. Jan (Generation X) annoyed with her older sibling, Marcia (Baby Boomer) always getting the attention. The boys love her. She’s prettier, her generation more flashy and funky. After all, she had the protests, the birth control pill, women’s rights and landing on the moon.

Like Jan, Generation X feels desperately mediocre. Gen X walked home from the bus stop around to the back of an empty house to get the key hanging on a nail from under the deck, made a small attempt to do homework and stayed in her room to watch television because her parents were out to dinner. She learned The Facts Of Life, understood that Good Times was all about getting white people to treat them with Diff’rent Strokes and she wanted to be Melissa Gilbert on Little House On The Prairie because she wished Michael Landon was her father. Of course, she was disillusioned that Landon wasn’t perfect and after River Phoenix’s death, Gen X Jan graduated from the University of HardCore Disappointments.

And then there is little Cindy (Millennial). So precious and wonderful, Cindy is the poster child of ‘Baby On Board’ – don’t drive like a murdering piss ant because I have a baby on board. Cindy is a star – raised to feel special and her parents love her and make sure she gets a trophy in her Taekwondo classes and soccer tournaments, even though she may not be that good. It doesn’t matter – little Cindy can be anything and everything she wants to be, despite not finding a job after college and her tuition being four times the amount as Mr. Brady paid for his suburban house in the early ’70s. Keep smiling Cindy, we’ve been there and we really do wish some of your optimism would rub off on us.

“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” says Jan with a deep sigh as Marcia speeds off in her SUV, squashing a squirrel on her way out of the driveway, off to a soccer game loaded with her precious children and a plethora of cheap gadgets she bought from Wal-Mart to keep her children entertained during the ten minute ride to soccer practice. Jan played The Alphabet Game on five-hour road trips and if she reached X before the last stop for a pee break, she gave herself a pat on the back. Jan looks at little Cindy, her cute curls and bursts of positive verbosity and is reminded that her parents weren’t that into Jan; just like every guy she dated who stood her up for a Laker’s game or a week-long D&D game with the guys.

Whatever… Jan feels bad no matter what, but only because she sees a way out of the impending decay of society if only she would wear her glasses. Jan just wants a better world and peace even if she puts holes in Marcia’s socks with an ice pick. Jan dreams about a small patch of earth to live on, not a Victorian mansion, or a McMansion in the middle of the desert. Jan would live happily in a yurt – in the country, somewhere on BLM land because all of the good places are parking lots and Marcia needs the best parking space. Jan would rather eat off the land instead of subsisting on cows, after all, their farts are contributing to global warming and the cows are partially mad for having to hold their farts in. Jan cares about cows, too.

And so, Jan = Gen-X = constipated cows.


Copyright © 2014 Solo GenX Warriors 
Solo GenX Warriors ™ | Disclaimer

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