Fogie Alert!

As a general rule I delete entries that begin with Kids these days . . . but sometimes, you know, as one of the wise Golden Girls said, it just is what it is.

Kids these days just don’t have things as good as we did.**

Darrre! I sedd it!

Come on, admit it, and we’re all gonna put on our memory caps here. Remember the thrill of having beginner sex in that ’84 LeBaron convertible (burgundy red!). Summertime, the windows down, asphalt just outside your door still hot from the record temp day, lemon Italian ice still on your lips, praying to the Jersey Shore and God and Phil Donahue that no one drove down the shaded lane and caught your hormonal bodies half hanging out of your matching tank tops?

I do.

Remember babysitting and sneaking out the back door for a cigarette after the kids were put to bed? I don’t. Probably because I only dogsat. But you get the gist.

Not anymore. The schools have surveillance, the parking lots have video, the cameras have cameras. Parents consumed by two-hour Datelines put freaking mini-cassettes in their kids’ Beanie Babies! Will the nanny beat dear Junior with a Q-Tip as that (very stereotypically) illegally Guatemalan? foreign au pair did the poor defenseless child with four toenails and one eyebrow? Clearly not. But you will catch her talking loin with Sam the Butcher.

I don’t think I have any teenage readers, but I would venture to guess that you can’t get away with crap nowadays. Ooooooh. The tension of texting under the covers! I luv u 4eva. Ugh. IT WAS SO MUCH MORE EXCITING TO READ THE HARDY BOYS AND DREAM FANTASIZE ABOUT THAT YOUNGER HARDY BROTHER WHILE UNDER THE STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE COMFORTER, DAMMIT! Does anyone pass notes at school anymore with a sorry so sloppy signoff? Are text messages intercepted by your Science teacher when you least expect it, in that slow-mo moment in which he of the violet corduroy vest grabs the delicately folded paper and you know by the drop in your stomach that any semblance of social status is done gone and over (hilarious that we took generic classes called “science” and “social studies” and “stuff arts” – no wonder everyone passed notes.) Does it happen, party people?

I dare say it doesn’t. How can you dream about Kirk Cameron while you’re walking through a metal detector at 7:50 a.m.? How can you think about sorting your candy stash when you’re more concerned about the scarlet garter popping out of your slutty creative and contemporary 36-DD prison guard costume? And FTLOG, despite the gazillion megapixels Grand Theft Winnebago v. 36.0 can offer the youth of today, do you not just crave the sweet innocence that was Pong? A simple bar and a beautiful ball and the gracious dink it made signaling SUCCESS! There is a reason why Ms. Pac Man is still found in laundromats and AMCs throughout our U.S. of A. It isn’t just for those Angelina Jolie lips of hers.

Don’t get me started on texting your mom to tell her you finally got your period for the first time. Or just knowing the Mets would suck for eternity. Or the virtues of the Leave No Child Behind Speak and Spell.

God damn, I love you and all you’ve done for me, Texas Instruments.



**Save the dinosaur and do you still blog on a typewriter? jokes for later (during my sponge bath), HB.