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Tag Archives: millenial

I wish I could quit you

Ok, I am willing to be the first to admit that I have been a lazy shit for a few months.

I haven’t written a post for quite awhile.

But can you really blame me?
I mean, I started the blog coming up on 7 years ago this June and have written almost 700 posts and close to three quarters of a million words on a blog that I can’t honestly prove anyone actually reads.

I mean, masturbation at least gets you a money shot, but this form of literary/intellectual fapping denies me even a foul smelling crunchy sock.

So why am I here today?

Iz is why I am tapping away here.

Iz is the poster child for whats wrong with this country/generation/the kids today.

She is worthless even for a millenial.

She is on her phone at a Starbucks. (What else would she be doing?)

Her entire manner of speaking is that of someone terminally bored.

All sentences begin with a sigh.

And she cleaves to the latest trend among the you and worthless.

She has her phone on speaker, you know, so the rest of us can enjoy her conversation too.

“Sigh, I was going to go to work today, but I so can’t right now.” (Can’t what? Take responsibility for yourself and earn a paycheck?)

On the phone is someone equally worthless.

“Sigh, I know, right? I went for my morning vape break and didn’t go back.” (This is normally how adults get fired, but I am willing to bet money that her company gives days off if you “So can’t right now”.)

More from the mouth of Iz.

“I feel like they take whole thing too far, its no fun.” (Awww, poor fucking baby!)

Time to get involved. (I recently realized that I am too old to care anymore. If she is going to include me in the conversation, I get to speak.)
“Why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?”

The look on Iz’s face is a mix of surprize slap out of nowhere and unexpectedly shitting yourself in church.

Then she decides to be angry. A child’s scowl darkens her spoiled little face.

“Excuse me?” (Whoever her half-tarded friend on the phone is, she is bewildered and saying “What?” over and over.)

“I said, why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?” (I keep my voice nice and even. This whole situation can turn on me in a heartbeat and I know it.)

Pause.

“Oh. My. God.” (It never occurs to this ditz to take her phone off of speaker, that would be the normal reaction of a self aware person.)

“This guy is yelling at me.” (To a millenials, anyone who disagrees or chastises you is yelling.)

She left, but I was so disappointed.

I had been hoping for at least some shitty comments.

Not an OLD guy, not some FAT guy (Lost a bunch, but still have more to go), and not even this guy is an ASSHOLE.

I am weeping even more for the future than I normally do.

Let me be clear.

I was not looking for her to leap across the table and try to prison-shank me, but anything but passivity would have been nice.

I have thought a lot of things about the generation in question before, most of them not nice.

But I never thought of them as pussies.

And that is just sad.

I would feel worse, but I got a Sumatran pour over today and the last sip made me cum a little bit.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on May 4, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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Cavalry to the rescue

There is a certain crazed energy in a 5 year old that is terrifying and awesome to behold.

There is also a certain vibe you get from a mom that is just burnt out and done with it all.

Its in her stare, her lack of reaction, no matter what that evil little beast does to her that tells the world on a very primal level – “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”

The 5 year old, let’s call him Damian. (If you get that, kudos. If you don’t, you are too young and I didn’t write that for you.

Damian has so far run face first into two tables, 1 door, the counter and 3 people.

He is definitely the type of kid who wears a helmet but isn’t on a team. (Are you following this?)

Let’s hope mom left his helmet at home because this kid is not going to have a brain left by noon.

Mom is sitting at a table, cell phone in hand, not texting, just holding it.

There is a glassy eyed stare that they would have called “Shell-shocked” in WWII.

5 year olds can do that to you.

Once again, I am unbelievably grateful that my children are grown.

I don’t have that kind of energy anymore.

Much less the kind of energy that could handle the kind of sugar-fueled, hillybilly inbreeding responsible for Damian’s little one man show.

Mom is still in her chair, as out of it as if she was Michael Jackson an hour after taking his bedtime “Jesus Juice”. (For the record, Propofol is not available as an added shot in your latte at Starbucks…. Nothing? Jeez, Google it, you people are pathetic.)

If I were Damian, at this point, the police would be feeding my mother into the back of a squad car for my murder and taking statements from witnesses. (Odds are, no one would remember seeing anything. Mom puts that kind of fear into people when she gets rolling.)

In lieu of my mother, the cavalry has arrived in the form of a middle aged woman shaped roughly like a bowling ball.

Damian ran head on into her and kind of bounced off.

Before he could get up, she grabbed him by the hood part of his little hoodie and lifted him off the ground.

It was like the human version of a momma cat picking up a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

She carried him across the room and plopped him down in a seat next to his mom, who until this moment, I had not realized how ridiculously you she was. (See also – Children raising children)

Mom looked a little more alert, but was still silent.

Before she went back to the line to get her coffee, she pointed an angry chubby finger at Damian.

“You get out of that chair, I will spank your bottom.”

It was an awesome moment.

It was also one that I hope she didn’t go to jail for.

Sadly we live in this hyper sensitive society that is a pale comparison of what it used to be.

Take a good look at any protest going on and you get a good look at the fascism of the politically correct freedom. (Inverted McCarthy-ism is never pretty to look at. There is a primal schadenfreude that lingers in the back of your head if you think too long about it. Even if you dig it in a sick way for the short term, it wears on you. Like an existential migraine that you just can’t shake.)

But enough of that.

The awkward feeling that was permeating the room has begun to fade, and the world has returned to homeostasis.

Plus, my coffee just arrived, so all is well.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on March 3, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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