Get your generation description correct
By Michael Brooks
“Okay Boomer.” This new insult makes me want to vomit in terror. The fact that something so alarmingly childish has become the way teens and twenty-somethings dismiss older people really gets under my skin. Every time they use the phrase, in my mind I can see their eyes roll so far back in their head they can see their own spinal column.
Besides, the terminology of the phrase is incorrect. When I get called that, I want to point out how many years off their ridiculous insult is. If you’re going to make yourself look dumb by labeling me, you can at least call me a...well, that is a good question.
According to the dictionary I am a “Xennial”. Apparently that is the term used to describe someone who is not quite Generation X and not quite a Millennial – people born between 1975 and 1985, although the years can range by a few both before and after those dates.
Xennial really needs to become way more known. There are so many things that define us as a generation.
As kids, we had to know if we wanted the power of Grayskull, or if there was more to us than meets the eye. And knowing was half the battle.
We were the first generation to see someone turn from an ape-abusing plumber to a mushroom-addicted turtle-stomping Super version of himself.
We all sat in our elementary school and watched in horror and confusion as The Challenger exploded.
When we were kids, Michael Jackson was bad in a good way. We knew Mike Tyson was way scarier than Freddy Krueger. We knew the unknown stunt man who made Eastwood look so fine. Despite what we were told, we DID like it when Bruce Banner got angry.
We knew the Duke boys were gonna bring hood-sliding, ramp-jumping, yeehaw-having-fun every Friday night.
We could tell you who you were gonna call.
We knew if you looked so good in love and could tell you when the thunder rolls. We could tell you if you could or could not touch this. (You can’t.)
We knew Cher back when she looked – well, exactly like she does today.
Depending on your gender, there was either an argument over Zack or Slater, or just staring at Kelly.
We knew Carl Winslow when he was just a no-name cop with an annoying neighbor (who usually DID do that), to the time he helped John McClane take out the “terrorist” in Nakatomi Plaza.
We just said no. We knew where the beef was. We watched as a new technology was refined that let you watch movies at your house, but you better remember to rewind.
We wore Nikes and Guess and carried our Trapper Keepers around in hands that had slap bracelets wrapped around the wrists.
So, make sure you get your insults correct. And if you have to ask “what ‘chu talking ‘bout,” all I can say is “Okay Z’er.”