I was at a networking event the other night (or a “meet up” as the kids these days call them) with a gaggle of young’uns five-to-seven years my junior, when it was painfully made aware to me that the future of my childhood, enabled by Jetsons cartoons and Hollywood fantasies, was so much bunk. Like, where the fuck are our flying cars? Also, where’s my hoverboard, McFly? Seriously! Tron, anyone?
I am not a citizen of the future foretold. And I’m kinda cranky ’bout it. Especially when the young whippersnappers, who were weaned on “teh internets!!” start reminiscing. When talking about music, one charming youngster confessed to only listening to Radiohead for a year in high school, downloading all their rarities and B-sides. (Said boy also confessed a predilection for Phil Collins, but I’m going to leave that unadressed.) Um, downloading? In high school? Listen, kiddy, when I was in high school there were no Radiohead rarities, Pablo Honey had just fucking been released, and I was forced to shoplifted it. And downloading music? I still had dial-up, with its verbose beeps and skronks, which would always cut out midway through any vain attempt to load a porny jpeg, leaving a half-naked image and a frantic scurry to get online again.
Suck it, myspace generation, with your web savvy and wireless internet. I was still using the computer lab in college, printing out my papers on dot matrix printers…tearing off the annoying perforated tabs on the side. Kids these days!
This is the curse of rapidly increasing technology, you become a curmudgeon at thirty, regaling the disinterested kinder with tales of Prodigy and the old AOL (sans instant messaging). And forget the Googles. Netscape, motherfucker. I didn’t know HTML from Esperanto in my youth, now its all IM speak, with the LOLs and the L8Rs.
Bah, hooey, I could go on, but the early bird special is going to end, and I need to get my senior citizen eat on.
Honestly, I just want my hoverboard. Future, why have you forsaken me?