I’ve been getting a lot of guff from the youth recently. It’s been a regular guffathon really. Just guff guff guff.
Oh, youth. “Inscrutable youth,” as Elif says, “with your enormous sweatshirts and tiny telephones…” And your three published lines of poetry, your day jobs, your bright fresh faces, your future masterpieces—how haughty you are! How condescending.
Well let me tell you something, youth. You should read the speech Morris Binkel makes at the bottom of p. 73 of my book. Attend to it! This doesn’t mean that I turned into Morris Binkel or that you’ll turn into me. I learned from his mistakes; you can learn from mine. (Yeah, yeah, I know.) But the premise of your rebukes, the presupposition, here I’ll spell it out for you—that you will not waste your twenties—well, well … I thought so too.
Listen dickface, and listen good: the internet is sick of your shit. The “youth”, however precocious and angry, are also, rightfully, sick of your shit. You want to know why your schtick doesn’t take? Why it feels - to everyone I know who reads it (or read it), myself included - like something with a polished, shiny, exterior that holds what should be some kind of sweet, sharp, substantial filling inside instead holds a hardened fucking fake dog turd? Like a piece of fruit you can’t tell is bad or rotting until it gives when you touch it?
Because it’s bullshit. It’s outdated, or at the very least, antiquated. It’s the same story we’ve heard so many times before - you are young, and that will come to pass - except the characters are based on you and your friends, to whom you too-little-too-late with an apology on the dedication page (unless they’re actually like that, in which case: I’m sorry). Because as anybody who already went through their 20’s should know, nobody in their 20’s will sincerely listen to someone telling them they will waste their 20’s, right or wrong. Maybe it’ll happen; maybe it won’t. Chances are we’ll all be 32 before we knew what happened, and we’ll probably be just as closeted and ambivalent about our long-lasting, now very deeply-seated insecurities as you and your brethren are, finally. Hopefully not, but it’s entirely probable. You think we don’t know this?
Well, Keith, I do. Because I see a smug hornswoggler like you who, after going through their misguided, wandering 20’s, thinking they’re so enlightened to have learned the same things as everyone else (including our parents) that they can help others with, decide to hand us a fucking pamphlet to tell us how to not make the same medicore fuckups they did.
Step 1 should be this: don’t turn out to be the guy who hands out pamphlets on how to handle their 20’s (while I’m out here, I’m reminded of the guy who stands in front of Pianos selling copies of “How To Hand The Devil His Ass”, a far more readable, less preachy tome). And then don’t turn out to be the guy who turns it into a book about his college years. We have no need for your supposedly un-cautionary tale. We have no need for your guides. And we have no need for a book in which the characters are so numbingly stupid, vapid, misogynistic and naive in their psuedo-sincerity, we don’t know whether to take them at face value or to objectively evaluate them as the jackasses they are.
You want guff? There. Now get the fuck off the internet. Your blog sucks. Your parties suck. And your advice especially sucks.