I have no idea how old I am. No idea. Everyone should forget how old they are. It is the most liberating feeling one can imagine…except maybe buying milk in one’s underwears. That would be pretty liberating too.

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It’s your fault. That’s right. It’s your fault we’re in this mess. Don’t go around blaming the older generation. This falls squarely on you. You are to blame. Rotten teenagers.

It’s your fault we don’t have good movies anymore. And you know why?? Because your attention spans are the length of a gnat. A GNAT I SAY! You can’t sit still long enough to notice that these movies today cannot legitimately suspend one’s disbelief. You can’t sit still long enough to appreciate the artistic integrity of a beautifully composed shot or piece of writing. You can’t sit still long enough to notice the gaping plot holes in this summer’s latest blockbuster. When the movie is over you can’t tell if it was good or not because you HAVE no attention span. All you remember is a few massive explosions, some hot people kissing, and a bunch of  texting that was done during the film to your BFFs or whatever the heck you call them. I can’t be expected to keep up with your crazy texting teengage slang.

And all those movie people know this. They KNOW you have no taste. So they keep rolling out really really crappy movies with really crappy directors who fill their movies with really crappy story lines, horrendous actors, and massive explosions (-cough- I’m looking at YOU Michael Bay…).

But they don’t care. They don’t care because they’ve just set new records at the box office. They just made more money in week than you and I will ever see in our entire lives combined. And they made it because you’re a classless, tasteless, ignoramus. You uncultured and cretinous moron.

But that’s not the worst of it. The worst part of it, you like it. You watch these “movies” and then talk about how AMAZING they are. You go on and on about how much you enjoyed it, how thrilling it was, how great the special effects were, and how it TOTALLY should be nominated for an Oscar or something. “Plus the explosions went ‘KA-POW!!‘”

You cringe at the thought of ever watching a movie from before the 21st century. You won’t watch a movie in “black and white.” It pains my heart. Some of mankind’s most perfect films were filmed this way. Heaven forbid you should ever have to sit through a black and white film and discover the horrible truth that EVERY movie you’ve ever thought was any good was actually ripped off from another movie that did it better long before you were ever born.

But that would never happen. You could never sit down long enough to watch one. You have no attention span. You’d go through all kinds of crappy movie withdrawals. Before you even got halfway through you’d be spinning in circles with a bucket on your head and putting tuna down your pants. You have no idea why. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. You just love those shoes. I had a dog once. Oh look a fly!

And thus, we are left with nothing but really crappy movies.

This is YOUR fault. I’m holding YOU accountable. Thanks a lot American teenagers.

YOU are what’s wrong with everything in today’s world.

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I’m not that old… I’m not that old… I’m not that old…

Last summer I was teaching a Photoshop/Digital Arts class in one of the local schools when I got particularly excited about the subject and exclaimed that the topic of what we were discussing was “rad.” The class started blankly at me for a moment while I wondered what was going on.  Finally my shoulders slumped in resignation.

“You have no idea what ‘rad’ means do you?”

…They didn’t. My soul was crushed. Like so many before it, the language of my generation had died. I might as well have been teaching Latin.

I’m not that old… I’m not that old… I’m not that old…

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I swear I was cool once. Honest. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I really was cool once. I’m not exactly sure what caused my eventual decline from “Joe Cool” to “Joe Shmoe,” but somewhere along the line I seem to have dropped a few levels on the veritable guitar amp of coolness.

Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten older. Or maybe it’s because cartoons seemingly aren’t as cool in my current demographic as they once were in an earlier and simpler time.  Or maybe I’m still every bit as cool as I used to be and YOU’RE the one that’s changed. Yeah. That must be it. What happened man? You used to be cool. You’ve changed, man. You’ve changed.

Regardless, I am slowly coming to grips with the fact that I am just not as cool as I used to be. It isn’t so bad really. I can still sport awesome shoes and a perfectly quaffed head of hair. I can still woo the ladies with my eloquent charm. I can still invoke the coolness of the Fonz by wearing leather jackets and going “heeeeeeeeeeey!” I can certainly still win “Guess Who?” board game tournaments year after year. And hey, if that isn’t cool, I don’t know what is.

So maybe I’m not as cool as I used to be. Maybe my amps no longer play at 11. But they still play, man. They still play.

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I’m not really in denial. I mean, I look in the mirror in the morning and I just don’t see a guy who is…um…near 30 years old. The guy in the mirror looks much younger. Not only that, but he looks like he deserves to have a fancy job with a high paying income and a hot little wife. He looks like he should win the lottery too. Yup. Totally not in denial.

So I’ve decided to do what most people who are…um…near 30 do. I have officially decided to start lying about my age. After all, I can totally get away with it. Most people who meet me for the first time think I’m only 22 anyway. I’d hate to embarrass them by having to explain that I graduated high school in the previous millennium. Really, I’ll be doing them a favor, saving them from all that embarrassment. It’s the right thing to do. I’m such a nice guy.

I will of course have to study up on the younger generation to really pull-off the youngification of myself. Let’s see…what are 22 year olds into these days? Um…let’s see. Reality television. Texting. Texting with poor grammar. Poor grammar in general. The Kardashians… (see what I did there?)

Now that I think about it, this shouldn’t be too hard. I can see myself easily lying about my age and getting away with it for at least another 10 years. The only way I can really see myself getting caught is if I get seriously involved in a baseball discussion. Once I start relaying game statistics from memory from the 1980′s people may start to catch on…

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