Friday, October 30, 2009

I Don't Give A Shit

Our generation is generally more apolitical, agnostic, and, well, apathetic than our parents’. When asked to speak out for or against an issue, we default to ambivalence – because it just seems like a lot less work. This tepidness extends not just to matters of national importance, but also – and, perhaps more so – to the day-to-day minutiae of our lives. We don’t say what we’re thinking because we don’t want to piss anyone off, or worse, get fired. Because I’m not concerned about either of those things, I’d like to take this opportunity to vent on behalf of my peers. After all, generations past spoke out on what they cared about most. But if there’s one thing that today’s youth is passionate about, it’s not caring at all in the first place.

Nobody cares about your fucking fundraiser. Listen, charity is great and I donate every year – on my own accord. But these days I get invited to more fundraisers than I did birthday parties the year my friends all turned twenty-one. So please stop emailing me about car washes, bake sales, sock hops, and silent auctions for random-ass causes I have no desire to support. It’s enough already. I don’t want to go. In fact, no one wants to go. Unless of course it’s open bar – then maybe we’ll consider it.

Don’t include a list of your favorite books in your online profile if you’re just going to list the Harry Potter series. Hell, I’ve read them, too. But who are we kidding? Everyone knows that, in your case, those are the only seven books you’ve read in the past decade. Considering their target age group is about eight years old, you should be embarrassed.

Fuck global warming. That’s right, I said it: fuck global warming. I believe it exists and I believe it’s bad. I just can’t stand to hear one more celebrity talk about it. If the federal government wants to enact a law that within five years all cars need to get 50 MPG, I’m fine with that. In the meantime, leave me the fuck alone. I mean, what the hell do you expect me to do – build a compost heap in my fucking one-bedroom apartment?

For years, I’ve wondered how it’s possible that annoying people who don’t shut the fuck up don’t realize how annoying they are. We’ve all been there – trapped in a conversation with someone who isn’t able to pick up on the most obvious clues that you’re not interested whatsoever in what they have to say and are desperate to leave. I call these people HCI's – “head cock inducers” – because while you’re standing there listening to them blab on and on you subconsciously cock your head to one side and think to yourself, “Is she fucking serious right now?”

Don’t send me online photo albums from events I did not attend. Nobody cares about your friend’s sister’s wedding. Don’t let your girlfriend be the one to tell the story if both you and her witnessed an event. Nobody cares about the intricate details of what everyone was wearing. Don’t reply “maybe” to Evites. Nobody cares that you might be coming – and if you don’t show up I’m gonna send you the online photo album just for spite.

In the end, I think that my problem, and the problem of my generation, is a lack of patience. Information comes at us so fast these days, it’s hard not to be impatient. I’ve been known to ask a question, and then lose interest a few seconds into the answer. Sometimes, I can’t even be bothered to finish my own sentences. A typical story I might tell my mom: “So, I went to the store like you suggested and blah, blah, whatever, I gotta go.” I guess I forget that moms are interested in everything. Like this one time – actually, forget it. You don’t give a shit.

Monday, October 19, 2009

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