I’d like to think it’s only natural (because it’s my opinion and I want to be right) to find the generation which succeeds us declining in every category of class, intelligence, and creativity. To a small degree I now commiserate with the humpbacked octogenarians slumped over their canes, smelling of musk and Preparation H. Only wishing their osteoporosis wasn’t so severe they could raise their arms to the sky and curse in futility the “young hoodlums” these days. I’ve come from such a generation, but when I turn on the radio now I think I will curse the skies myself if I have to hear one more song about “goodies”, “milkshakes” or “grills”.

Recently I was invited to see “All-American Rejects” in concert. If the show had been free I would possibly have accepted. However, the tickets for the show were around $40. I could see 4 bands who I wouldn’t fall asleep during the set list of, rather than seeing one “All-American Rejects Concert”. I liked some of the songs which got radio play off their first album, but to be frank - they are nothing special. The same notes, different words and even some of the lyrics seem as if they are trying too hard to make it all fit. So I rejected the opportunity to see “All-American Rejects”.

I went mini-golfing on Saturday with a couple that are good friends of mine, her sister, and a gaggle of her sister’s teenage friends. Here’s the thing with mini-golf - I mini-golf so infrequently that I forget between one occasion and the next how terrible my aim really is, as well as how much I really do HATE score keeping. The par for the course was 65 I got an 80. Oh yeah and did I mention I kept score?

One of the teenage boys in the group had my fingers itching to do him bodily harm all night long. He shall remain nameless but I will mention his friends have given him the nickname “D-Cups” due to his grossly overdeveloped pectoral muscles. It’s REALLY not attractive. The course was indoor however, there were large windows with deep ledges high off the ground, and sections of the course required you to climb stairs and use slides to get back down again (it was actually a very cool course). These features of the course provided ample opportunity for “D-Cups” to put in a number of pull-ups here or there. All the while giving his impression of a rakish debonair grin. The grin was neither of those things. The feelings it elicited from me however were very genuine, I actively campaign against stupid people/behavior.

One of his final moves of the night was to grasp the ledge just above the sliding glass doors leading to the parking lot. He proceeded to do a pull up knocking his head into the motion sensors, causing the door to jam open as it tried to orient itself. That of course is not enough stupid behavior for one five minute period of time. In front of the building was a wood beam which was bricked at the base to be a decorative support for the building. “D-Cups” from the interior of the sliding glass doors took a flying leap at it and proceeded to attempt to scale the beam. As it turns out, no true support was provided by the beam. It was indeed purely decorative and begun to creak and shake violently in protest at the weight of “D-Cups”, causing it to lean slightly away from the building. The entire group yelled at him to stop, which he did.

He smiled and laughed about the incident as we made our way through the parking lot towards our respective cars. It was at this point I felt I had to make sure he understood the truth. So I asked “You know you’re a Moron don’t you?” I suppose it was phrased rhetorically, but if there was any doubt in his mind whether his actions did indeed classify him in a “special short-bus of dumb” I wanted to be sure he was aware of it. I can only call things as I see them. This seemed to be one of those times.

Preening imbeciles have no special place in my heart. As the night wore on “D-Cups” seemed to get the hang of socially appropriate behavior. So their might be hope for the next generation. Who knows?

The other day I ran across a poetry blog of a young girl I know in person. I understand her need to express herself. I also commiserate with her hormonally driven need to have a “crush” on somebody. However it is some of the worst poetry I have ever read. I think she might need an editor. The first poem I read was filled with contradictions. The gist of the poem (I think) is her attempting to free herself from the boy she is “in love” with. In the first few stanzas she talks about their mutual love and then immediately contradicts it in the following stanzas. While the poetry is god-awful I can’t really judge. The only poetry I’ve ever written rhymes. I can’t write deep meaningful rhyme-free sonnets. I’m missing a creative gene somewhere in my DNA.

Saturday with the teens made me feel old and disconnected. Which is ironic really considering I outflank them in age by only 3-4 years. However, I appreciate all the more so what those years have shaped me into. Their time will come and in some ways I hope not too soon. When they have problems more pressing than the he-said-she-said of their fledgling relationships or the property destruction caused by excessive weight on not-a-pull-up-bar. I have never thought of myself as being like some of these kids. I was once told I had an old soul in a positive way, but I’m sure the more negative aspects of that trait carry through also. I could think of no more appropriate end to this post than showing you my inability to make my poetry rhymeless. I’ll take you back to age 13 with this poem...

Old For Her Age
old for her age
like she's missing a page
lost some instruction
to properly function
skipped on some screws
so she shakes when she moves
It's alright
It's ok
cause it's only a stage
cause she's too mature
to feel insecure
old for her age
cause it's only a phase