Tag: Boomers

  • Boomer hate has gone too far

    Boomer hate has gone too far

    Charles Murray, whose work on race and IQ has made him something of a darling of the online right, found himself out of favor with his fan base when he posted on X that a young married couple – each making $15 an hour and working 48-hour weeks – can afford a baby and a place to live.

    The reaction was furious. “Charles Murray is a good man,” wrote Zarathustra, a popular dissident right-wing poster. “Sadly, however, he’s also a Boomer. Which by necessity, means his bumper sticker talking points on political economy are comically out of touch garbage, and read like a moldy Reagan Youth pamphlet from 1982.” Murray’s post broke X containment and made it to the subreddit r/BoomersBeingFools. Indeed, most of the anger directed toward Murray followed the same theme: he was wrong because he is a baby boomer. 

    Boomer hate is nothing new, and it’s more or less a bipartisan phenomenon. The “OK boomer” meme appeared on 4chan as early as 2015 and took off as a mass cultural phenomenon in November 2019, when it went viral on TikTok with the influencer Neekolul wearing a Bernie Sanders crop-top lip-syncing to “Oki Doki Boomer.” Just months later, Covid lockdowns took over the world, and the global public-health apparatus shut down the schools and colleges and parties and workplaces of the young in an attempt to preserve the final years of the old. During that time, the left’s distaste toward boomers remained relatively surface-level – they’re old and out of touch, for example – but the right’s resentment toward the generation grew far deeper. In its opposition to mandates, conservatives began to react against a politics and a society that privileged the aging at the expense of everyone else.

    The Silent Generation (with certain big exceptions, such as Anthony Fauci and Joe Biden) has drawn little contempt online, perhaps because it was never memed, perhaps because its members are generally too old and out of the spotlight – but boomers? They embody, for the right, the worst sort of self-preservation, weaponizing their outsize power and numbers in public health and government to fight for policies that were utterly destructive for younger people, to whom they seemingly felt no responsibility. And it wasn’t just about Covid: it was about the fact that they had let insane ideologies – so-called racial reckonings and pediatric sex changes – take over mainstream American life and institutions, crushing the young on top of material concerns such as runaway inflation and housing prices and crime. In other words, they climbed the ladder and then pulled it out from under them, as Helen Andrews argued in her 2021 book, Boomers: The Men and Women Who Promised Freedom and Delivered Disaster.

    And yet, these days, most of the ire directed toward boomers seems to be toward the idea that they, like Charles Murray, promote “pulling yourself up by the bootstraps,” with many on the right having joined their counterparts on the left in assuming there can be essentially no self-improvement in the face of material problems. They’re not wrong in that Murray does sound a bit out of touch when he insists on a model that doesn’t entirely account for inflation, the increased prices of insurance and education and assumes more hours than most entry-level jobs are willing to provide employees. But beyond raging against the system – which is precisely what many boomers did during their 1960s youths – and encouraging constant, mostly online outrage, it’s not clear what alternative the anti-boomer right is offering. Meanwhile, a young person might actually be able to make a change in his or her life by taking Murray’s advice seriously, if not literally. At some point, following conventional boomer wisdom becomes a Pascal’s Wager of sorts: if pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps doesn’t work, the worst that can happen is we try something new – but if it does, our work will reward us in ways that wallowing in self-pity never will.

    That’s not the end of unjustified boomer hate. The young right’s antipathy toward boomers is ostensibly about the generation’s entitlement and overeagerness to toss aside tradition, but is, ironically, grounded in entitlement toward boomers’ money and a desire to snub whatever tradition and wisdom it is that boomers themselves have passed on, even if we don’t recognize it as such.

    Indeed, while many on the right look forward to boomers stepping aside – some even gloating over the “Boomer Die Off” in the coming decades – what they don’t realize is that, for better or for worse, boomers are the last link to the old world, being the last generation to truly remember it. Many of the opera houses, symphonies and mainline churches will likely shutter with the boomers, as will any last memory of decorum, of a world in which left hands are for forks, in which suits are for the office, and in which men remove their hats when entering a building.

    The idea that Western civilization will be better off without the boomers is laughably naïve. What’s far more likely is that the small number of people in younger generations who care enough about art and culture and manners will become de facto hobbyists, while those in the greater majority won’t even know what they’ll be missing. 

    Boomers may be flawed, but aren’t we all? To blame them for all our ills, especially as younger generations gain prominence and replace them in positions of power, is to abdicate responsibility. And if we do indeed fall into that trap, those of us in younger generations will have no one to blame but ourselves.

  • A Gen Z defense of America

    A Gen Z defense of America

    I am twenty-one. Not being on social media, I am ill-informed of the true depth of rage and fear available to the human psyche. Even so, I’ve heard that the planet will overheat. My pastor tells me the churches will sit empty, and the WSJ warns I’ll never buy a home. Boomers bemoan the laziness of my generation. Given these prophecies of doom, it is no wonder that we are a bit anxious.

    But if we were ever to look up from our screens and allow the evidence within sight to form our perception of reality, we might be pleasantly surprised: America’s social fabric is strong, and so are we. 

    I went on a run on the prairie today. This solitary excursion signifies that I, a young woman, am not debilitatingly fearful of male violence (which I would have good cause to be in most societies, past or present). It means that a functional economy has presented me with new running shoes, which are a very complex product. It implies that my local government has the forethought and effectiveness to not only protect an open-space area from development, but to build and maintain trails. This society’s health care and food systems have given me the vigor to run; its schools have taught me to appreciate wildflowers’ beauty and biology; its culture encourages a girl to wear shorts and to become strong. 

    Why, the world seems to be conspiring to endow me with agency. Call me privileged – a thousand times, yes – and call yourself the same, and declare it a blessing. 

    Addiction to a cold screen hasn’t killed Gen Z’s warmth. Time honored American values of friendliness and respect, whether at happy hour or a chance meeting on a plane, are still ubiquitous. Contrary to what our venerable reader may believe, nine out of ten Zoomers say they enjoy spending time with their parents and care what they think. Our dating scene is bland but, by historical standards, respectful – “we should hang out sometime” is a pleasant enough aberration from the more time-tested methods of arranging, buying or kidnapping a wife. Gen Z may have strange ideas of tolerance, high expectations of wellbeing and non-confrontational habits (at least offline). But a generation inclined toward harmony is not all bad.  

    Our third places – those arenas of social interaction outside the home and the workplace – are vibrant. In the past two weeks, I have attended a running club and a line-dancing night; a church picnic and a wedding; a backyard concert and a breakfast gathering with home-baked bread. At each, the average age was under thirty. Most Americans are lonely, and I am sometimes lonely. But videogames, politics and pandemics have not seriously prevented us from loving each other.

    The nation’s institutions are stable. Some things are happening over in DC, but not too quickly or irrevocably. The government works well enough. A pothole that used to swallow my tire was repaired when I wasn’t looking, and I have never even thought to be fearful when fighter jets fly overhead. As for technological progress, perhaps it has slowed down, and perhaps it is speeding into an unknown AI future. Either way, we do not seem to be experiencing severe cultural whiplash, and despite big tech’s best attempts, I still have agency over my technology use. If there are two things Gen Z is good at, it is absorbing new technology and not quite trusting it.

    Decline narratives are nothing new. Mesopotamian kings inscribed in stone that “the world has waxed very old and wicked.” Since then, this earth has creaked along through another four thousand years of affection, suffering and surprise. 

    Boomers, please give us half a chance to earn your hope. Zoomers, look up from your phones. Your life is not hell, nor everyone else’s heaven. A normal job is enough, a normal body is enough and a normal life is enough. If we dedicate half the energy into living our lives as we currently put into performing them, we can prove those pessimists wrong.

  • What the skibidi?

    What the skibidi?

    People whose minds stopped evolving 20 years ago are having a snit because the Cambridge Dictionary, the world’s largest online lexicography, has added a few Gen-Z and Gen-Alpha slang terms to its more than 6,000 entries. The most controversial include “skibidi,” “delulu” and “tradwife.” You could argue that the latter is more of a millennial linguistic formulation for the extremely online, but the other two are definitely youth newspeak.

    Tradwife, as a term and a viral activity, is going to stick around for a while. “Skibidi,” derived from the YouTube Skibidi Toilet meme, is a word with as many meanings as “aloha” and “shalom,” and has the potential for a generation-spanning shelf life. “Delulu,” short for “delusional,” is a ridiculous babyism and is already about as cool and relevant as saying “cray cray.”

    In other words, the world changes, time and language marches on. I would advise against heading in the mental direction of writer and artist Lee Escobedo, who wrote in the Guardian: “Skibidi brainrot encapsulates a generation fluent in irony but starved for meaning. This kind of hyper-chaotic media serves as both entertainment and an ambient worldview for young men raised online. Their minds normalize prank-as-expression.”

    Kids today and their skibidi brainrot, amirite? This kind of stuffed-shirt intellectual condemning the kids’ vibe periodically emerges in generational cycles. Words come and go. But the real comedy comes when normies try to get hip with the youth.

    Since I’m the last surviving member of Generation X, the current mild strain of language controversy reminds me of the “Lexicon of Grunge” that the New York Times published in 1992. Times freelancer Rick Marin (author of Cad: The Confessions of a Toxic Bachelor), seeking to report on how the cool kids were talking, called up the offices of Seattle indie-rock label Sub Pop. He got receptionist Megan Jasper, one of the greatest Gen-X heroes, on the line.

    Jasper, who later ended up being Sub Pop’s CEO, proceeded to pepper Marin with a glossary of nonsense words. Despite some Times fact-checking, the terms got through the filter, leading Marin to write, “all subcultures speak in code.”

    And that’s how we learned that “grunge” people used “swingin’ on the flippity-flop” to refer to hanging out. A loser was a “cob nobbler,” though not as bad as a “lamestain.” Some of the terms, like “harsh realm” and “score,” actually entered mainstream vocabulary. Unfortunately, “bloated big bag of bloatation,” for drunk, didn’t. In a 2020 interview, Jasper, in typical Gen-X fashion, regretted the whole episode, but in particular regretted that Marin didn’t use the term “tuna platter,” which she’d offered him as grunge slang for “hot date.” Either it was too risqué or so ridiculous that it rang even the Times’ broken BS detector.

    The Gen-X irony here is that if she’d grown up in the age of TikTok, Jasper’s Grunge Lexicon might have gone mega-viral, becoming the actual lexicon, and fast. The world might have found itself calling old-ripped jeans “wack slacks.” There would be a “Bound and Hagged” entry in the Cambridge Dictionary, telling people that it meant “staying home alone on a weekend night.” But since it was Gen X, the words just fell into a pit, and will never see the light of dictionary justice.

    So here’s to aimless young men and their prank-as-expression. Hooray for brainrot. Our brains are going to rot anyway, so we might as well play Word Jabberwocky while we can. One of the joys, for me, of being alive for nearly six decades is watching the world change, sometimes gradually, sometimes quickly. You can wake up and find yourself immersed in a whole new culture, a completely different language, and you don’t ever have to leave the house. Any skibidi cob-nobbling tradwife who doesn’t enjoy that feeling is being completely delulu.