Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right

Now...

Ellen and I have, indeed, had the Boomer conversation before. I don't think it's an argument, really. She has Boomer siblings who sound like useful folks. On the other hand, I have Boomer parents who aren't; they approach useless. I never said I hate every single Boomer out there, and I can think of a couple I even admire (at least one I know personally, and one I've read about and had the great honor to meet a few times.) Believe it or not I have Boomer friends, and I don't hate them, either.

What I hate is largely a set of generalizations, but generalizations must be based in reality on some level. The sexual revolution wasn't an urban legend, you know. It also bothers me that among the Boomers of my acquaintance, I've never met one who seemed to understand how lucky they've been. I know there must be some who do, but I don't know any of them. Those same people don't seem to understand how hard we've had to work, particularly those of us who entered the job market in the late 80s and early 90s.

Maybe they're getting a sense of it now that high-tech is the place to be and you have 16-year-old Java programmers working night jobs. I've never asked any of my Boomer friends if they're scared of the youth movement, and perhaps I should. I know it scares me a little.

I feel like I grew up peering into the distance at the generation that came before, and now I have to look over my shoulder at the one that's following. It tends to engender a feeling that somebody is out to get you, or at least make sure your job is outmoded.

Of course, the best option is to stop worrying about it, but anybody who's actually had a conversation with me in real life knows how hard it is for me to let anybody else have the last word. I generally prefer that the last word be some kind of ironic zinger of a comment, something that stays with you all day, but I'm fresh out today.

So, you know, whatever.

before - after