A Word About Cheap Speakers, Bad Costumes, And The Millennial Generation

            It is apparent now that I have turned right into Clint Eastwood’s character from Gran Torino.  I can’t get through the day without having to point my rifle at some kids running through my yard whilst growling “Get off my lawn!” at them.  How did this happen?  When did this happen?  Where did I get the rifle?  Did I turn into my parents overnight and no one told me?  (I hope not as they have both passed on and it would be awkward having to explain how I can type this despite my cremained status.)  But with every passing moment, I can now feel every passing moment pass by every moment and that is a new sensation for me.

 

It seems I have this expression every day.  Good thing those punks never look up from their phones to see it.

            Did I ever think that the music I listened to would be part of a “classic rock” rotation or even worse: part of the “Light FM” stations?  Alice In Chains, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, and the rest are all considered “safe” today.  After all, those bands are all pushing to be 30 years old soon and that should frighten the torn stone-washed jeans off of any self-respecting, former flannel-wearing, head-banging, mosh pit-surviving Gen-Xer.  Pretty soon White Zombie is going to be used for Hallmark ads that encourage us to send a card to our grandmas because we are indeed “More Human Than Human”.  If Tool is ever used for Gerber baby food, the game is over.

 

            Perhaps I just cannot stand the whiny, self-righteous, social justice preening of those so-called Millennials.  It is just like the world passed over from the Boomers right to these tight-pantsed, workout loving, easily outraged blowhards without taking into account those that came in-between, namely me.  If I could figure out how Twitter worked, I’d certainly show them a thing or two!  Hash mark this or whatever, you social media wonks!  (By the way, the tight-pantsed thing was discovered to be horrid by my generation back in the day; hence the baggy jeans with plenty of room to maneuver revolution back in 1992.  Those that never study the history of pants are doomed to repeat the mistakes.  I can’t wait for airtight polyester slacks to come back with these buffoons.)
 

Fight the Millennials, otherwise this is our future.  Never again.

 

            That the times are passing me by was quite evident this past weekend.  My task: find some amazingly cheap speakers for our PC.  Our eldest enjoys playing games on the PBS website and the last blisteringly cheap speaker we owned died.  As I walked in Target, I went through the electronics section and actually took a look at the shelves as I sought out the speakers.  I saw a cornucopia of accessories for things that I have no idea what they are in the first place.  Apparently people want to be more wired than the back of my first stereo system.  There were various multi-colored protective shells for handheld devices that I can only assume were for tricorders so Mr. Spock will be delighted. Well, as delighted as a Vulcan gets.

 

            Other than shiny things and TVs so large they inspire their own ZIP codes, I didn’t know what I was looking at.  I started to forget who I was, sweating and panting as I made my way across the aisle to recuperate amongst some overpriced Star Wars toys.  Ah, some things from my day never do change!  I regrouped, placed some Chewbaccas in front of the New Characters That I’m Supposed To Care About’s action figures and went back to electronics. 

 

            Also, I adore DVD and have a passing flirtation with Blu-ray, but what is the actual deal with these 4K Ultra HD-whatever discs?  Are we looking for definition that is so clear, I can actually see the pounds of foundation powder on Meryl Streep’s face?  Do I want to witness the Jack Nicholson of today that clearly?  I certainly hope that this tech can be used for parlor dramas as well.  “You haven’t seen Pride and Prejudice until you can actually see the blood throbbing in the veins in the close-ups.  I can actually guess Keira Knightley’s pulse just from the high def!”

 

Oh yes, you're quite welcome.  Bet you can't wait for the return of VHS now.

 

            But I digress.  I couldn’t make head or tail out of most of the bells, whistles, and other gadgets that populated the electronics section.  I could make out the price however.  The cheapest speaker they had involved leaving a blood sample and a promise to deliver your great-great grandnephew to them if the payments couldn’t be fulfilled after 2106.  I thought I could do better so I left.  I assumed I could use the bathroom before leaving but since Target now has so many signs and gender subcategories to determine which toilet one can use, I just peed in the Starbucks display.  Chances are the customers won’t taste the difference when they grind the beans anyway.

 

            What is with this generation anyway?  Do they really want to be that connected?  Did they ever see The Matrix?  Oh wait, that’s almost 20 years old now too, so probably not.  My stars and garters, I am aging quicker than Macaulay Culkin when he was passed over for Home Alone 3.  (Yet another reference the Millennials won’t know, damn them.)  I used to have a smart phone but discovered that my data costs were comparable to what the Clinton Foundation made off of disasters in Haiti.  (There, now that’s topical!)  My phone now isn’t smart, but it does try awfully hard and is more than adequate for how much I would like to be linked up to the worldwide interwebnets, thank you very much.

Yes, that is Malcolm McDowell in the bottom center.  Yes, I hope he was overpaid to be in this.

 

            Walking into Best Buy, I resumed my quest for a crummy cheap speaker for my PC.  After explaining to the store guy that I wanted a speaker for my PC and then after explaining what a PC actually was, he asked what my price range was for this.  I said “$15.”  He stifled a laugh and then stifled a bigger laugh while taking me over to the speakers that come free with a bag of Sour Patch Kids near the checkout.  However, even these were in the $25 range, which was out of my scope to be sure.  So I left there as well, leaving the heavily tattooed clerk not even attempting to stifle his laughter anymore in my wake.

 

            Maybe I just think this group of people that came screaming out from my generation is shiftless, thinking they are entitled to a life that even the Gen-Xers never got.  That laziness is quite evident to my scowling eyes.  As a for instance, just this past weekend, my wife and I were taking our kids out trick-or-treating.  Sure I saw some homemade costumes, but most of them were store-bought.  Now, this isn’t something unique to this generation, after all store costumes have been a staple for decades.  But just some of the evident apathy that came with compiling a costume was irksome. 

 

For example, I’m all for seeing kids dress up like Jason Voorhees.  He is a legendary horror choice to be sure, so I must ask that you go all out in your costume efforts.  Don’t just go about wearing a cheapjack hockey mask and a flannel shirt, thinking that I for one will be terrifically elated at your efforts.  And c’mon, flannel?  With the hockey mask?  For shame.  Now, I would definitely be impressed if you were the potato sack on the head-wearing Jason from Friday the 13^th Part 2.  Get that flannel together with some bib overalls and your look would be complete, but I am going to guess this would have taken too much effort.  I’ll wager you didn’t even see the movie in the first place.  I’ll wager even more that you didn’t even know there were movies with this character.  You just ignorantly saw the mask on the shelves at Halloween Express and thought “Hey this is cheap and easy!  I’m ready for candy!”  Sickening.

See?  You see?!  Words fail me, you hack!  Ye gods man, really?!

 

And unlike an infant or toddler that just has to go with whatever nonsense their parents adorned them with, you were presumably old enough to know better.  In fact, I’ll bet you are probably too old to go out there in the first place amidst the age-appropriate trick-or-treaters like my children.  At the outset you prey on my nostalgia for the classic horror icons of my youth and then it is just a cheap ploy to get candy.  Candy you are in effect stealing from my children?!  You scheming bastards!  Pray Mrs. Voorhees doesn’t find out what you’ve done because I can promise that she’ll be lenient in comparison to my vengeance.  (No, look it up, I’m tired of explaining these things to clueless Millennials.) 

 

Okay, now this guy is getting candy.  See the difference that comes with just a smidge of effort?

 Boy, that digression thing, huh?  Anyway, I left Best Buy, not knowing where I could find this speaker for my daughter.  Cursing every single person I passed on the highway because they just cannot keep their little light up rectangles from being crammed in front of their noggins, feverishly looking for entertainment, I pulled into Wal-Mart.  Not expecting to find anything, I went back into their electronics section and not only found the speakers right away, but they also had them for just 10 bucks.  Even after getting some batteries for it, the price was still cheaper than at either Target or Best Buy.  Looks like a deal was found by the old man!  I am now one step away from preparing to demand future senior discounts on my coffee at Perkins.

 

As I left the Wal-Mart, I saw some little kids and their parents going to a Halloween event in town.  Dressed as various Disney princesses and Marvel superheroes, their faces were full of joy.  I couldn’t help but smile at the same time, remembering some of my favorite Halloween costumes when I was their age.  I thought of the cute costumes my own kids were wearing and had worn in the past.  How could I ever get to be so curmudgeonly?  Did any of these apple-cheeked innocent youngsters deserve my ranting wrath?  No, not at all. 

 

Well, unless they end up like the Millennials that came before them.  Then all bets are off once they cross my property line.