Remembering the '90s is an insufficient coping mechanism. If you came of age in the brand-new century, then you should realize a few things.
First, anything anyone writes about your generation is wrong. I didn't grow up during a never-ending global war against maniacs whom we might or might not be also manufacturing with our never-ending global war. You know what's weird? That as a country, we don't turn to one another more frequently and whisper, "My god, we've got flying death robots shooting missiles at people all over the world."
You have hustled and toiled and navigated your way through a haunted house of an economy. You get criticized for living your life online and keeping your noses buried in your smartphone. In the old days, before texting and Facebook and Twitter and social media, lonely people would just scream into their pillows.
Everybody has a voice. Sure, but when everybody has a voice the noise can be deafening at best. At worst, it's a maddening chorus of lunatics babbling. But that's still preferable to the silence of the grave.
You don't remember the '90s the way I remember the '90s. You were busy pooping in bags and being adored by your parents. You never got a chance to revel in the splendor of the American Dream in full bloom.
But, years from now, when the hologram news has nothing to publish, they'll throw up a list of early-teens nostalgia and remember how scrappy and inventive you motherfuckers are.
Hopefully I'll be eating pudding while my consciousness is being downloaded.
It's really too bad the tight-bodied lifeguards of Baywatch can't save us from Ebola and jihadists.
John DeVore is a writer and editor who lives in New York City. He is happy to be back on Cracked. Follow him on Twitter: @JohnDeVore.
For more from John, check out All You Need to Know About Why Everything Will Be OK and I Blame England for Everything (A Defense of America).