Right, let’s talk straight. I’m the victim, accused, and guilty here – I’m a Millennial.

Hold on, let me tweet that.

Okay, back to business. You guys have your facts all wrong – I was born pre-2000. Don’t associate my skin with any of this new-age interconnectedness pseudo-liberal destiny’s child crap. I’m not “Millennial”. I’m old, god dammit. I was born an entire century ago – don’t throw me in the Millennial group. Just because I’ve got an iPhone in my pocket and I like sharing vintage pictures of my breakfast on Instagram and I have enough social media accounts to sink a battleship, doesn’t mean you can stick me in a submarine and scuttle me off to the ocean floor.

I grew up running around outside with a twig for a medieval sword and a catty for shooting spam. I actually have some degree of a tan and I can walk a quarter mile without navigating through my cell phone screen. Seriously, how do you guys manage that?

I also hate all your music. Let’s be honest. Mumford & Sons? I was so elated when I heard they’d put their banjoes down. Justin Bieber can enjoy his ‘retirement’ too. Music went down the pipes long before I was born, so don’t give me that look.  You generation X’ers were all banging your brains out to nu-metal anyway.

Also, don’t give me the stick for sinking Facebook like a ton of lead. It was great until all the old folk started joining and sharing hundreds of thousands of recipes and political commentaries. Really. I just want to see  a mixture of teenage girls, coconut vodka and questionable morals on my news feed, right? The thing was flawed from the beginning, anyway. You only leave your laundry on the line for so long, unless you live in a trailer park.

You know what really grates my cheese? Don’t tell me I think life is short. It’s not. It’s the longest thing I’ll ever do. Don’t you think that if I really thought life was short, then I’d be streaking down the neighbourhood cul-de-sac with a guitar in hand? Honestly. I’m quite content in this little societal bubble that’s been made for me. I want to learn, work, raise kids and then finish off peacefully. Forget all that stuff I told you about studying with Bhuddist Monks and leading the anti-Capitalist rebellion. I’m a peaceful revolutionary at heart. I’ll occupy Wall Street until it’s time to go Instagram my coffee at Starbucks.

I actually think that you – yes, you there in the corporate Generation X suits and ties – are the real Millennials. I mean, the Wikipedia entry to “stealing someone’s thunder” should have a display picture of you all sharing your Facebook photo of your newborn.

Look, there’s some truth here. You guys got most of the fun with vinyl records – I have to buy mine at a vintage “premium!”. You even grew up with pretty good tunes on the radio, too. You all got smartphones before we did. You even got the opportunity to have a fairly cohesive opinion on things like Vietnam and the Cold War. Look at what I’m dealing with – we can’t even make our minds up about how to word a Twitter post. So, really, don’t blame me for using the gifts you gave me. I’m still dealing with being called an “Echo-Boomer”, which in essence sounds like an after-quake. See? We don’t even get to make the Earth move.

You all love to complain that we don’t go outside and that we sit at a computer all day, but hold on, let’s evaluate. I essentially had a childhood to do that. Now I’m a victim of the cyber prison, just like you all – well, except for Granny Doris. She missed that boat.

Now, you love to complain about us as we take to the Twitterverse and rant about Miley’s Virus and her performance with Robin (is quite) Thicke, but you’re forgetting that was all planned by men in a boardroom of your generation. Cause and effect. Give us a cause, and we’ll pour our hearts into the Internet lamenting the death of innocence. (Not me, I saw that coming. You can only have two identities for so long before you hit the Wacko stage. I’m looking at you, Hannah Montana.)

One last thing – you can keep your conservative media. I don’t want to hear Bill O’Reilly spill his guts over something he doesn’t want America to know or think about. I also don’t want to be considered a “Millennial” with delusions of grandeur and a massive God complex. You can keep that kind of talk for Mr Rupert Murdoch.

Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been three hours since my last selfie.


Just in case you didn’t click, this is a satirical piece, from my column Don’t Look At Me In That Tone Of Voice.

Cover image: http://alinthenews.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/generation-y.jpg