Bone in the Fan

I'd Rather Smoke Pot In A Malibu Than Huff Aerosol In A Matrix

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Or: the decline of civilization (this time it’s real)

Complaints about “young people today” probably go back to the Australopithecus complaining about “those damn kids, what with their evolving, and their using tools to do things, and that whole standing erect thing…”  For the most part, these sorts of comments seem to come from a generation that either secretly wishes they could go and hang out with those damn kids, or simply want to piss and moan about how the whole country, hell the whole world, is just going right down the shitter.

Not in this case.

On my way home tonight I pulled up next to a car filled with kids listening to the kind of horribly unoriginal formulaic music that actually makes me miss Scott Muni.  And I thought: “holy shit, that looks like a fucking awful place to be trapped for 30 seconds, much less an entire evening.”

And something clicked for me.  It may have been the contrast between what they were listening to and the Houses of the Holy cd that I was listening to, but a gear turned, a switch flipped, and I realized something really surprising: for the first time ever, the current generation of young people (I’m referring to kids aged, say, 16 to 25 years old), is actually getting less cool than the last one.

Really.  Consider which of the following scenarios is more appealing:

Smoking pot while hanging out in a beach parking lot at midnight and listening to a Led Zeppelin cassette blaring from poorly mounted 6×9 speakers that were stolen from Caldor’s and installed in the back of a 1975 Chevy Malibu while you discuss the relative merits of the latest Clash album with a bunch of chicks that aren’t wearing bras and love to make out, or huffing Dust-Off in the Office Max parking lot crammed into a lowered Honda Civic with boy-racer bodywork, fake neon mounted under the dash, and over-sized faux chrome tailpipes that sound like a someone in gastric distress is farting into a plastic bottle while Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift is excreted from a bass-heavy stereo system and the two chicks crammed in the back seat try to shout over it to discuss the relative merits of the most recent book in the Twilight series.

So cool.  Rides like a sofa on wheels, has room for six, can keep a bong on the floor for months without spilling.

So cool. Rides like a sofa on wheels, seats six in comfort, can be driven around with a bong on the floor for months without a single spill. Attracts cool chicks by the dozens due to its awesomeness.

So fucking stupid.  Rides like a go kart, bottoms out pulling into, well, any driveway anywhere, almost as effective at attracting cool chicks as lighting your farts.

So fucking stupid. Rides like a matchbox car, seats 3 1/2 in misery, and bottoms out pulling into any driveway anywhere, making it tough to drink Red Bull without spilling it on your Abercrombie t-shirt. Attracts cool chicks about as well as lighting your farts.

I rest my case.

18 comments to I'd Rather Smoke Pot In A Malibu Than Huff Aerosol In A Matrix

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