Get Off the StageOne Millennial responds to Gen X's discontents
GET OFF MY LAWN This Millennial has had enough Gen X angst Five years ago, Robert Lanham wrote The Hipster Handbook. It was a brilliant little book, and straddled the Gen X/Gen Y divide as skillfully as 1980's Official Preppy Handbook delineated the handoff between Baby Boomers and their bastard Gen X nephews. Both books captured moments when one wary generation ceded cultural dominance to a mysterious and frightening new one full of kids who surely shouldn't be trusted with the keys to the nation. That's why Lanham, and the old guard Gen Xers who share his discontents, should know better. His broadside against my generation, the bushy-tailed Millennials, wasn't a call to arms against Generation Y. It was requiem for his own Generation X. Their moment is over. Finally. They got more than they deserved, considering that Millennials outnumber them by nearly 50 million. There are more of us Millennials than there were Baby Boomers! We threaten to overshadow everything Generation X fought so hard for. Like Adam Sandler movies and extreme sports. I'm sorry Time made fun of your generation. But, guys, it's Time. Don't worry about it—we Millennials made it irrelevant. We're killing print!The problem isn't just with us, Gen Xers insist. It's our parents, the boomers. They coddled us. Told us we were special. Turned us all into entitled brats with overinflated senses of self-importance. Is this any more annoying than, say, a generation of depressive praise junkies desperate for anyone's approval? No one ever told Generation X they loved them! Cry us the muddy banks of the Wishkah. Are our parents even the boomers? If we were born between 1982 and 2002, aren't we the children of late boomers and early disaffected Gen Xers? My dad was born in 1961. My mom is younger. If I understand demographics and biology correctly, it's Generation X who are currently filling brownstones with status-symbol stroller-filler. We haven't finished enjoying hookup culture yet and you guys are pricing us out of two boroughs. If there's a coddled nation of brats on the way, I'm guessing it's the one Gen Xers are preparing in their Park Slope laboratories. Then there's the story of Kevin Colvin, the young man who skipped out on work one day to get fucked up at a Halloween party. Colvin claimed he had a "family emergency" in New York. His asshole boss at Boston's Anglo Irish Bank, Paul Davis, discovered otherwise when he dug around on Colvin's Facebook profile and found an incriminating photo of Colvin dressed as a fairy. A fairy! This supposedly represents everything wrong with my generation. We post photos of parties we attend on the Internet. While we should be working! "They think updating a spreadsheet while simultaneously posting to a Twitter account about the latest gossip on perezhilton.com is an essential corporate skill," Lanham insists. "And, like Kevin, they're always doing stupid shit, but rarely getting called on it." To the contrary, Millennials are the first generation whose every dumb mistake is archived forever on computer networks. We're the first Googleable generation! (Just ask Kevin Colvin, who, unless he changes his name, will have to carry around this minor indiscretion forever.) Gen Y's permanent records are instantly accessible by anyone and everyone with a MacBook. Or a smart phone. Maybe it's healthier that way. I certainly don't love the culture of microblogging every 40-ounce consumed, but I'll entertain the controversial opinion that it's not the end of the world. It may, in fact, make Millennials less screwed up about navigating social spheres. You won't find us wringing our hands about the dissolving borders between public and private life. We've never differentiated between the two. Yes, we overshare. But we also don't drop our monocles every time someone updates their Facebook relationship status. Lanham describes snooping boss Paul Davis is a sort of Gen X hero. What does it say when cool, proudly anticorporate Gen Xers empathize more with the boss at a Boston Bank over the kid who played hooky from work to get wasted at a Halloween party? Didn't you guys think Ferris Beuller was a revolutionary moment in cinema because your smug slacker hero talked to the camera while skipping school? (Which reminds me—thanks, guys, for keeping Ben Stein employed.)
GIFTS FROM THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE Jock Jams and I Love the 90s (Photo: Getty Images) Is that unfair? Let's examine your great cultural statements: Reality Bites, a generation of dudes whose primary goal in life was to sleep with Winona Ryder, Singles, Encouraging Cameron Crowe, Airheads, Empire Records, grunge, alt-rock. (Years later, none of us are entirely sure why anyone claimed to enjoy the sounds Eddie Vedder makes.) Perry Ferrell. Christ, what were drugs even made of in the 1990s? Jock Jams: The first ironic '80s revival. Inventing false nostalgia for shit that sucked in the first place. The Wedding Singer, the young adult regression into a childhood of cheaply produced cartoons and eight-bit video games. Steve Buscemi, Michael Jordan. Okay, we'll give you those two. But look what you did to Ben Stiller. I'm sorry Time made fun of your generation. But, guys, it's Time. Don't worry about it—we Millennials made it irrelevant. We're killing print! You think we want Morley Safer calling us the Next Greatest Generation? We don't know who Morley Safer is! |
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