A voluntary carbon reduction program
Writing by treason on Tuesday, 22 of May , 2007 at 12:16 pm
“The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather for the devil.”
– C. S. Lewis
The last time T’s mother came to visit she seem preoccupied. Still in her fifties, she is thinking about retirement. She’s worked for a major corporation for more than two decades, has invested as long as T can remember, and lives alone. Yet she expressed some concern about how she would be able to afford to live after leaving employment. T and I stood on the patio and the subject of our own retirement came up. He looked at me, inhaled his Marlboro, then exhaled:
“I say, when the time comes, we do a House of Sand and Fog.”
I discussed this with our friend, Bob, who lives in the Bay Area. Like T’s mother, he has only himself to support, and he’s making six figures. We talked about my mother’s situation, and his position on the Golden Years was clear:
“Why do you think I own a gun?”
T calls his plan a “voluntary carbon reduction program.” Under his proposal, we live our lives and go about our daily business, but as soon as it’s clear we are no longer capable of supporting ourselves, we off ourselves. In House of Sand and Fog, he brewed her a cup of “special” tea, and then he wrapped a plastic bag around his head. I actually prefer Bob’s idea. There is something quick and certain about a piece of lead in your head.
Thinking we were on to something novel, I soon starting seeing reviews of Christopher Buckley’s latest, Boomsday. In it, his disgruntled Generation W heroine modestly proposes that our government, to alleviate the strain of millions upon millions of Boomers turning 65 and draining entitlement programs dry, should offer incentives to the Boomers to kill themselves and ease that burden off the younger generations. This suicide plan would be called “transitioning.”
But don’t we have those incentives in place now? What with the death tax scheduled to skyrocket in the next few years, doesn’t government already dictate to oldsters that there are better times to die than others? The problem, of course, is that there’s no reward in it for the Boomer. At least in Buckley’s world there are perks.
Our local newspaper offers magazine inserts in the Sunday package, each one designed for a different demographic. There is one that is particularly offensive, even though it is designed to appeal to someone in my age group. It’s called “Boomer.” And if that isn’t disturbing enough, there are a series of websites devoted to this generation, the most recent “Boomer Towne.” Oh – you haven’t heard? Sixty is the new forty. Look. I turned 40 once; I do not wish to do it again. I saw Davy Jones on TV last week. I remember clearly what Davy Jones looked like in 1965 when I was five and he wasn’t: I’ve changed considerably since then – he hasn’t.
Some people just seem to be aging too well. A 60 year-old woman just delivered twins. T was surprised – shocked even – to learn that Mitt Romney is 60; a local talk radio listener who watched the Romneys on 60 Minutes called to say he thought the hot blonde sitting next to Mitt was his daughter.
But as much as I like Mitt Romney, I’m looking forward to the day when we no longer have Boomers in office. Between their addiction to Botox and their addiction to patchouli leftover from their Glory Days, these hipsters turned oldsters have worn out their welcome.
No one has asked the obvious question. If these people can’t even parent and control a household, how are they supposed to be adult enough to run the country? I know Boomer parents who have no concept of the rule of law. Parenting for them is merely a system of bending the rules. Whenever someone suggests a program to prevent a specific behavior, Boomer parents are first to say that it doesn’t matter what the program is, kids are going to do it – no matter what “it” is – anyway. Worse, because their kids are just going to do it anyway, they make their homes available to do “it” in. If you’re going to smoke that, smoke that here. If you’re going to drink that, drink that here. The kid’s paramour is allowed to sleep over, and in some cases, allowed to move in. And the worst thing the Boomer parent can do – after providing no boundaries and allowing the rule of law to be violated without consequence – is to treat siblings differently. What’s fair for one isn’t fair for the other. It’s obvious Boomer parents are making up the “rules” as they go along.
And so it’s abundantly clear that Boomer politicians have applied this logic to the illegal immigration problem. Since there’s no way we could possibly find eleven… twelve… fifteen… twenty million people, we have no choice but to let them stay. We can’t stop them from coming here – they’re going to do it anyway.
Locally, Boomer parents who weren’t aware that their son was failing a class two weeks before graduation pressured the teacher and principal to raise his grade to a “D” so he could finish high school with his peers. And the Mayor’s hard-line approach to the BioPark vandals I wrote about yesterday? Already a somewhat different “agreement” has been reached.
I don’t know if it was all the flower sniffing, pot smoking, or black lighting in which the Boomers immersed themselves during their Glory Days, but whatever it was it has made them turn woosy.
If you need any more convincing, go back and watch this past season of 24.
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