I blogged about something I was thinking about after having read something MCARP wrote about television and now Westika is blogging about my blogpost …
Anyway, … .
My last post only looks at a small part of that generation and just what little I can seem to observe. I’m also bored with their apathy, binge drinking/bonging/snorting/whatever and I also think they are misguided. I wasn’t trying to debate them, only describe them as best I could.
I also “get” the comment by Mary about the kids she observes in Charleston. There have always been those guys in Izod shirts and Dockers in places like the resort town of Charleston and there are those exact same guys here in the world’s largest small town. It’s the children of this generation’s Nichols Hills salt-of-the-earth self made assholes. Right, Flibbertigibbet? And those girls will also wear the today equivilant of the plaid Bermuda shorts and Peter Pan collared white button shirt. As we might say in Oklahoma City, there has always been a Harold’s and there always will be. It’s the prep school clique from Casady and these days Heritage Hall. The East Coast plays a bigger league “prep school” game than we do, what with Andover and all, but it’s still the same game, even if the stakes are a little different. It’s remarkable to me, but the prep kids who find themselves in Oklahoma City or who return to Oklahoma City still run in the same crowds and it’s still a high school social thing in its inveterate and impenatrable clique-ishness.
The ones from my generation are the proud, mindless Republican boors who are currently riding high on petroleum money. The oil guys are getting $75 a barrel and acting like they invented wealth. The natural gas guys are all trying to be Aubrey Mc. at Chesapeake and spending money like they were billionaires. They all go to MetroLifeNonDenominational TV Church and are holier than thou, youbetcha. And their kids have the same arrogance plus the natural “Know It ALL” attitude of brash young men fresh from their victories on the high school lacrosse playing fields. And, of course, THESE kids are optimistic and all about their current love lives/joining of contiguous empires as the nobility always has been. These kids, born on third base, wake up believing they’ve just hit a triple. No wonder they are optimistic. Fresh faced, pink cheeked little darlings. Not as metaphor, but literally, they are George Bush. He is now and always has been the Yale cheerleader. The “gentleman’s C” that comes from having Prescott Bush endow a whole building. Skull and Crossbones doesn’t stop at graduation. They only have one personality that they all share. Fanatically sure of themselves, believing that what they believe is literally divine, they are now and always have been insufferable. They run things, they know it and they are, by reason of wealth and status and position, invulnerable to the vicissitudes of the life of the rest of us. When we want a lot of money and are willing to sacrifice and work our asses off in the struggle for the legal tender, these people are who we want to be and who we want as children. Yeah, I know. YOU would be different. You would be the self made rich guy in Nichols Hills who ISN’T the asshole. You would be one of the down-to-earth Nichols Hills guys that Flibbertigibbet sees at Nichols Hills Plaza Starbucks. Right.
Well, that’s exactly who these kids want to be. They want to be rich and right. Not only do they see no obstacles, they see this as their birthright.
While I think the local faux nihilists and Fox News preps are both statistically significant on the youngster’s population pie graph, I think they still represent small slices. I don’t know enough about hip hop culture, Latinos or lots of other young adults to even pretend to be able to capture their generation. I can say I’m glad to know Westika and Pink Lady and a few others in that age bracket and the ones I know much about at all seem like they are more “real” than either of the two groups I’ve described. So, I have hope.
blogblah!!!

I wish I was a trust fund baby! Being an alimonian isn’t enough, I need more money, lots and lots of it. I wouldn’t care if I was right about anything because I would have enough money to make me right. Right?
I miss my big brother.
Hugs and love.