There are I think only two things that are applicable for my generation. The first is the death of the phrase my generation, the plurality of the internet has revealed just how radically diverse peoples interests are, sub-cultures within sub-cultures, entire communities based around banalities. This wonderful and terrible revelation shows how godawfully reductive and presumptuous the term ‘Generation [Letter]’ is.
The second, also spawned by the internet is that immediacy, one that people of the previous generations may assume could be stressful. It really isn’t, I find out minutes or sometimes moments after it happens that Pratchett has announced a new book, or that tragically a chemical attack in a Syrian village. Both banal and important things are offered me with little delay and that concept is glorious. No more stressful than old news airing every hour and by the nature of the delivery system, more tailored to my interests and far less repetition of old, already known crap.
Of course, these things don’t apply to countries where internet access is restricted or nonexistent. Once again demonstrating that the phrase my generation, and all its associated children, requires so many prefaces that it then becomes literally worthless.
I felt on retrospect perhaps this post didn’t convey what lies at the heart of my gripe and this little diatribe that I wrote encapsulates the same feeling but expressed more succinctly and eloquently.
Americans are rude and of course the English are polite, except for Obama , who despite his many faults is polite, except for Boris Johnson who, like a snake, wears ill that mask of politeness. Except for, except for, expect for… Eventually the ‘except for’s drown out the original message and all you are left with is rain in the gutter. Die, and die a deserved death, you foul generalizations, you tool of the inarticulate, that wretched corpse on whose flesh stereotypes live, may you be buried deep and never darken that noble doorway to speech again.