The joys of Gen WTF.

As admiring of as I am of the leadership of the young in the fight against the adulteration of the world by alleged adults behaving like adolts, adullts and outright Adolfs,  I’ve been regretting that compared with these youngsters I’m so youthless as to be useless.

Or, in other words, that I’m way too far over the hill to be considered useful or even acceptable as an ally in their generation’s attempts at global re-generation.

But now I’ve started questioning this assumption. After all, I recently realised, I was born before the so-called baby-boomers, and thus have never been part of a generation with a generally-agreed label, let alone its own letter of the alphabet, as is the fashion these days.

So, WTF, in theory I’m completely free from any pressure to conform to some designated set of attitudinal, behavioural, sartorial and sundry other standards expected of people whose generational identities are strictly defined.

In fact, as I now see, I’ve actually long been taking advantage of my generational flexibility without being consciously aware of the fact.

For example back in my late adolescence, while my juniors, the baby-boomers, were playing the predictable sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll role that was expected of them in the ‘swinging’ Sixties, and their parental generation was just as predictably reacting with disgust at what they saw as the degenerate Sicksties, I was making my own personal generational statement by avoiding drugs and greatly appreciating the rock ‘n’ roll, but mostly avidly by skewing my efforts more towards my preferred personal perception of the era as the Sexties.

The highlight of which was the opportunity to contribute half of my WTF-generation genes to a new and, to judge by my now 53-year-old son’s aptitudes, attitudes and achievements in life thus far, vastly improved replacement generation.

I was also very much in fashion back in the Sixties/Sexties, as it was then that I also took the liberty of joining the Levis’s jeaneration. Which, though at first quite a select group, has since, due to the explosive and apparently everlasting popularity of denim, become so far from exclusive as to include all subsequent generations, including today’s cutting-edge Gens X, Y and, for all I know, Z.

Most members of all of which doubtless perceive me, when or if they notice me at all, as a sad and sorry specimen of the critically age-endangered geriatrigeneration.

But as far as I’m concerned, we Gen-WTFers who’ve come this far can’t be written-off so easily. Especially those of us old farts who’ve been so fortunate in the marital arts as to find much newer-generation spouses with good, old-fashioned WTF attitudes like, for example, my wife, and to father even-newer-generation offspring, like our similarly WTF daughter, and thus keep ourselves young, at least at heart.

And so we’ve a wealth of passion to devote to lampooning, lambasting and lashing-out in any way we’re capable of against all the moral, ethical, political and criminal degenerates of all generations who are hell-bent on doing such heartbreaking damage to Planet Earth and its peoples.

We’re intent on doing Whatever TF we can right now, for example, to help the schoolkids put the skids under the politricksters responsible for endlessly delaying if not outright denying the very reality of climate change for the purpose of further profiting their already filthy-rich supporters in the fossil-fuel industries.

And at the same time wondering WTF more we can both individually and collectively do to aid and encourage the massive crowds of mainly youths out teenraging on the streets of Hong Kong against the latest efforts by the fake ‘Communist’ party of the fraudulent‘People’s’ Republic of China, or rather Chaina, to enchain them in its inhuman system.

Plus, of course, refusing to go along with the world’s most powerful alleged defenders of democracy that have so dismally failed to decide WTF if anything they can be bothered do to help the suffering citizens of Syria, the Yemen, Venezuela and the countless other failed states around the world that they’ve settled for doing sweet FA except to sell arms to the aggressors.

Of course neither the global powers of evil, like Chaina, Russia, Saudi Arabia and their countless accomplices nor the pathetically impotent potential powers for good, from Trump’s useless US right on down to its currently increasingly nasty little neo-liberal lapdog, Australia, could give so much as a good goddam for what we in the WTF generation get up to against them.

They’re as vividly aware as we Gen WTFers are that we’re a dying breed. But at least we can console ourselves that in, whatever time we have left, we’re free to keep joyfully doing our duty to pass-on enough of the irrepressible WTF spirit to ensure that generation X keeps standing for exciting; Y for Y not, not Y bother; and Z for keeping on zapping the zeroes hell-bent on zoning us out with their zany religions, sleazy ideologies and brazen lies.


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