Evil Morons Blog

No Place for Old Street-Fightin’ Men (Epistle VII)

Screen Shot 2015-06-18 at 1.31.05 PMYes my noble Threes, six epistles later and we’re finally telling our story. How we saved the ‘rents from being Yumpies (though Yuppiedom is not that much better).

You know the rest: You were there, goddammit!

You were, like, three years old, and you asked in all your innocence, “Where do babies come from?” And instead of a simple, kind evasion you hear: “Well, daddy’s penis gets big and hard. Then he puts it in mommy’s vagina and plants the seed…”

She goes on and on about how good it feels and what it means, and you’re thinking: “Why couldn’t I have been brought by a stork like Shawna or Charlie…”

Then there was all that embarrassing competition to get into pre-school.

The risible green-and-purple mullet they let you get when you were eight.

Having to learn funky James Brown steps when you were ten (and not at all funky).

Screen Shot 2015-06-19 at 9.21.58 AMPutting up with watching them smoke weed when you were twelve.

Being invited to smoke weed with them when you were fourteen.

Having to hear them rap along with your music and trying to get themselves invited to come along with you to raves…Dad, please, I want to get high by myself.

But you know all this. You were there…

But maybe you weren’t aware of how good the nineties were to Mom and Dad. All of those tech companies started in the late ‘70’s, early ‘80s (Microsoft, Apple, Intel, Cisco, and Oracle), cashed in big as the Internet started happening. At times, stock prices were doubling every couple of months. It was so entertaining, the Twos started watching the market ticker on TV.

What an amazing vibe it was in 1997 when the last of us Threes were born. Business was good, and Mom and Dad were in the midst of it, consumed with projects that were culminating, blossoming, and bearing fruit. “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well,” said the poet. But they were reading it in spreadsheets and communicating with slide decks.

“You unnerstan what I’m sayin’?” It was all very corporate, but the soundtrack in their heads was throwback—like the Street-Fighting-Man-Feelin’-Groovy remix—LMAO! (but crying inside).

 

Categories: Epistles to the Children (Of the Third Millennium)

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