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Bitter against the youth. The cute little girls with no depth. How do I know that? I don’t but all their primping and preening makes me assume shallowness. And the conversations you overhear. “Omg, Josh did the funniest thing yesterday, he wore two hats at the same time!”

You don’t have to respect language or grammar – I’ve made my peace with that, unlike other grammar snobs and holier-than-thou pompous pedants hocking unsolicited advice and inflated reprimands – but is there not a smidgen of noteworthy dialogue in that burgeoning brain? Does the mental dance not shuffle your way? ask your hand between punch bowl trips? I may be Carrie at this prom of life but I can carry a good conversation and throw in some wit, a copper mine hauler with tools in hand and a charming spitshine.

What do I not see? Maybe I have become too hard on these next generations; my saltwater taffy self has turned into rock salt, coarse and jagged from high expectations, great ones serve no purpose anymore, a Dickensian throwback.

The men are no better, to me anyway, sure I meet enough nice ones with something to cast into the world, but I tend to see fickle and matted meatheads and clones. They’re all wry smiles and sardonic wit thieved from TV and movies. Copycats copying everyone else, cranberries crammed into the remix blender, no more clockwork oranges. These fruit of the loom are woven so thin I can’t imagine how they can’t be embarrassed to traipse around.

I am still searching for hope, beckoning for the proof that they can do better. I’ve become like all those condescending teachers who spout off about potential masking judgments and curses. I am forlorn about the future but what does it matter? It will be what it will be and new modes of existence will take place, take shape with these eager and positive y’s and z’s.

The changeover will happen and new blood will scream through the system updating the tired and the true; broadband banshee. They can live it up in this brave new world. They be creating their own flotilla and I and my ilk should step aside from the drift.

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