I guess it makes sense. I’ve been referred to as rat, rat-dog, rat-man, and pig-dog (I think that last one had something to do with my hairless belly), so why not use me as a guinea pig to write the first post using some totally new, hopped-up version of Word Press that Millennial developers concocted deep in their underground latte-lair at 2 a.m?
She’s terrified of it.
The version, not the lair.
It might have something to do with a bottle of petit syrah and a deep conversation with Her web-designer sister over Thanksgiving where they both shook their heads a lot and discussed different career options.
But then, they’re both GenX, and let’s face it, they greeted adulthood with pagers and bangs. They still wipe a tear away when George Michael sings ‘Last Christmas.’ They write thank you notes.
Bottom line, the computers at AARP are on the brink of issuing them both membership cards which they will then use to get 10% off at Orvis. They have no hope of embracing a glorious new age of WordPress – even if it is named after a 15th century printer.
Well played Millennials. Well played.
Me, I’m GenZ – and haven’t you heard, we’re the future. We’re woke, financially with it, tech literate and always aware of the In Joke. That’s the reason I can dazzle you with artsy tidbits like this:
I can wait all day Phil.
Or, make my words even more profound than they already are…
Or give you some quick stats:
|Date||Groundhogs Caught||Groundhogs Eaten|
|12/25/18||1||0 (It was Christmas.)|
No doubt there are 659 more things I can do in this post, but I’ll just let that brilliance settle a bit. No need to show off.
So…maybe you’ll hear from Her again…maybe you won’t. She’s got a lot of brush clearing to do and a data connection that’s delivered by the US Postal Service. I’m thinking that learning any new tech is going to involve more wine than is currently in the cellar – and either way that’s not going to end well.
I’ll talk to her. I’m pretty sure these GenXers appreciate the incredible insight and humility my generation brings to the table.
She’s gonna need another glass.
Ah, Mungo boyo, do give her a break. I’m just a tiny bit older, and recently had the experience of trying to explain to someone closer to your age why it was necessary that she spend TEN WHOLE MINUTES of her so-woke life to write an actual paper letter and mail it to a -post office box-! I’m sure that when the conversation was over she still didn’t believe me, but she was too polite to keep staring at me in utter disbelief.
Bravo Mary Ann! I am only light years behind you!