Grey haired fools lacking the requisite amount of activities needed to fill such cold, dark existences should probably, like yunno, lighten up. Harshing the harmless, hilarious buzz that is groups of young people wearing onesies whilst drinking and dancing is a sad existence indeed.
As hard as it is to believe Mr Harris, we are adults now. I understand this may scare you a little. After all, you watched us grow up, and heaven knows that was a comedy of errors. But to quote some old dude, "it's reality, so just accept it."
You told me this just earlier, but I think it’s worth repeating seeing as my attention span is rather limited: “adulthood is a mixed bag.” It can be pretty hard sometimes what with working full time, studying part time, cooking, cleaning, and rushing back to our childhood homes to make sure Mum or Dad don’t take the iPad into the bath again.
You’ve horded the results of the luckiest period in Australian economic history (bar the gold rush) into outrageous suburban house prices and risk-averse super funds. Surely you kept aside some of that astounding generation of dirt-come-wealth to ensure our economic transition would be somewhere near as smooth as your balding crowns, right?
You’ve produced a generation of professional politicians that inspire such apathy as to see party membership at historical lows and making our tri-annual polling pilgrimage about as desirable as your ‘funny’ weekend Hawaiian shirt.
You’ve outlawed same-sex marriage, whilst happily treating that impregnable social institution with gay abandon via hugely increased divorce rates over your lifetime.
So, leave us be. We work hard and sometimes we play like children because, in all honesty, trying to reconcile the bleak outlook you’ve provided with the work-for-reward lifestyle you promised is more than a little daunting. Putting on a funny animal get-up helps us contain a diminished respect for our very serious nevertheless somewhat ineffective elders.
BT + Gen Y