Monday, January 16, 2006

Wherein I finally join the 21st century

With the beginning of this blog I officially enter the 21st century. You see, I thought I'd wait awhile and see if I liked it or not and if I didn't, I wasnt going to buy in. You know.
I spend the weekdays watching my grandson, who, as you might imagine is perfect and can do no wrong in my book. During the weekends my husband and I spend equal amounts of time avoiding my grandson (and his mom, the Stainless Steel Amazon) and responsibility in general. I am not otherwise employed because I don't have to and you can't make me.
I live in a tiny little town in the middle of East Buttfuck. Here, amidst the blossoming republicans, conservative middle management nobodies and christian nutbags ( for which there seems to be no known pesticide) I finally decided that if I didn't have my full, unedited say for a change I was going to have a BIG ol' cow. I assure you nobody wants that.
So, why should you care, gentle reader? Now theres a very good seem to have a place to post comments; thats nice, I forewarned, though-theres a reason I live out here in the middle of East Buttfuck; and it's because I'm not terribly SOCIAL.
What follows is my first article:
Born just after the cut-off date to be a regulation Boomer (which is fine because geeze; what a dorky name) I fall into the lost demographic. We were the younger brothers and sisters of the boomers. We are the kids who watched our older, hippified sibs get arrested for protesting whatever the issue happened to be that week, we saw Vietnam on the news and were old enough to understand what was going on, we lived through the first gas crisis, Nixon, Kent State and all the rest.
Despite which most of you turned into your parents anyway.
Not good parents either. Crappy parents who 'can't stand what kids these days are wearing.' Who 'can't stand the stupid n-bomb* music kids nowdays listen to.' People who actually say 'In my day we never did things like THAT.' To which I reply :
NOTE: To any kids who are reading this right now, if your parents are piously asserting the aforementioned, your parents are full of SHIT. The only exceptions are those of you whose parents were raised in remote caverns on the MOON.
Yes, my daughter knows, and no, it didnt cause her to 'lose respect' for me. Being a teenager caused her to lose respect for me.
What happened? I'll tell you what happened; y'all talked big before you had any responsibilities, but that first kid or that first big debt came along and you caved the fuck IN because it was the path of least resistance.
1. People my age who vote republican make me sick. I know you remember Nixon, dumbasses. Not to mention Reagan. Yet you do it anyway. Now our kids are dying in another Vietnam. Morons.
2. People who automatically hate anything that people younger than themselves like make me sick.
3. People my age who listen EXCLUSIVELY to the same music they listened to their senior year make me sick. Honestly, how many times can you listen to 'Cat Scratch Fever' before it causes some kind of brain damage?
4. People my age who bought suv's like they thought gasoline sprang from a magic fountain in the front yard of the White House, as if there wasn't ever going to be another gas crisis make me sick AND they make my ass bleed. Remember waiting for three hours in gas lines and then having to help your dad push the car to the pumps to fill up? On alternate days? And only ten gallons, then? Duh? Smoking all that dope DID fry your memory.
5. People who flatly deny they ever tried drugs, had premarital sex or drank underage make me violently, violently sick. This is just beyond lame; please don't. Nothing says 'I am a sad, lying sack of shit' more clearly to your kids than this. Remember: you were a teenager in the 'Seventies. No one believes you anyway.
6. People my age who buy into fundamentalist religion not only make me sick and make my ass bleed, they just need to go die. In my book that not only makes you a retard, if you insist on inflicting it on your kids it qualifies you as a child abuser.
All hating your kids taste is going to do is make them feel like shit and hide things from you. Then one day there they'll be with a shaved head selling carnations in an airport in Germany and you'll be wondering 'how did this happen?' like a giant clueless wad of fuck.
Refusing to admit to yourself and others and Time has, in fact, marched on and that Ted Nugent really wasn't much of a songwriter (except he DID have a fine, ass, didn't he?) cuts you off from a whole two-thirds of a lifetime of new things to explore and enjoy. I mean, come on. Most of you are only 45, like me, yet already you have become bitter old farts. Remember? Just like the ones that YOU always hated to see show up at family things...the ones who sit on the side with their mouths all twisted up like buttholes, complaining about the boy's haircuts, the parents lack of supervision, the music, the food, and how slutty all the girls look.
So anyway, theres that. Hasta la bye-bye!
*(please pardon the epithet, and feel free to call me a salmon crunchin muk)


  1. like Nutter Butter Peanut Butter Sandwich Cookies, right?

  2. I just found you, fairly late in the life of this blog, through the profane and profound Vicus Scurra, but I'm starting at the beginning and reading the whole darn thing.