To all the winners in the "flower generation", and their offspring.

from Anon. (24, M) (McDonald's Employee - Official Fry Supervisor)

Hey, baby. I just wanted to say sorry for everything. Sorry I'm such a loser. Sorry I don't have a real job, or a house yet. It's 'cause kids these days have something wrong with us, we don't have any of that character or motivation, which you have in spades. We spend all our time playing Xbox, I guess, or whatever it is we're doing. What are we doing? Do you really want to know? I will tell you what we, the kids, are doing these days; but first, let's have appetizers.

It didn't have to be like this. You had your chance to change the world in the sixties and seventies; instead you let Thatcher and Reagan take care of all that, and you gave yourselves over to pleasure seeking, navel gazing, plastic surgery, and playing with philosophies like toys. Every significant politician since then has been a Reaganite or a Thatcherite, but the TV pretended otherwise and you believed the TV. Oopsies. Now it's all falling apart, and you need someone to blame. "Donald Trump is spoiling everything!" is the cry on every street corner. President Trump certainly is repulsive, a monstrosity, but actually there is nobody you can blame, there is no scapegoat, there is no way out. Trump isn't a scapegoat, anyway — only a mirror.

While everyone sits around watching Netflix and waiting for the inevitable, perhaps a mild distaste and nausea is appropriate. For you have proven yourselves to be the most disgusting people in history. Not the cruellest, not the most barbaric, not the worst, but certainly the grossest: the softest, the sleaziest. You want desperately to be young again. The plastic surgery is not enough: you need youth in your veins again. The obsession you have with youth is not benevolent, it is gut-rumbling and salivating.

I was subject to innumerable movies growing up, which explained to me how you changed the world for the better. I truly believed in you and all your wonderful achievements and the bright future you created for mankind. As the famous advertisement goes, you brought the world a Coke and taught the world to sing in perfect harmony. However, I checked recently, and the world is not, in fact, singing. How droll.

You dreamed lovingly of a bright future. You loved the future so much, you had to eat it. After the feast must come excrement. That's what you have left behind, a world of excrement. Plastic, in every sense, is the excrement of your generation. It is in our brains, it is in our hearts, it is in our blood. You did more than buy the world a Coke: you half-mutated us all into Coke bottles. Lol.

The good times are gone. You made sure to clear the plate, and the pantry too. It must have been a colossal effort — but, as you like to remind us, your work ethic is excellent. Freddie Mercury informs me that you wanted it all, you wanted it all, you wanted it all, and you wanted it now. "Now" was 40 years ago. You grew used to having it all, and the Beatles re-runs, and the zen stuff, and to being the richest people in history. Soon you will have to get used to your children dying.

Dying — that is what the kids are doing these days. Our spirits are perishing already (they cannot survive a vacuum), and as this coming century unfolds, sinuous, reptilian, as the biospheres falter and the wars break out, our bodies will also perish, in delirious numbers.

Whatever will come next? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind. But what came before is set in stone, forever. There is no fixing what you have broken, there is no rolling back the clock. This is the world now. When you were young, your heads were filled with dreams. You dreamed of a better world, you promised to teach the world to sing, and then you lined your pockets. Well, baby — here we are. Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a dream of wealth and taste. A dream you can't wake up from. No matter how loud it gets. Or how hot.