Dear New Generation,
I still remember my 6th birthday. Looking at the Polaroid photos, I can almost recall the loud singing and mad clapping. I remember the Pokémon birthday cake -because that’s what all the cool kids got- and neatly-wrapped presents, not stupid gift cards in small envelopes.
I miss the late afternoon trips after school to the local bakala, buying little cardboard airplanes and candy. I remember rushing home to assemble the airplanes in the living room and the smell…
I still remember the smell of ink on those cardboard airplanes.
I miss watching cartoons with my brothers past our bedtime, us yelling at the superhero to just stop being so chivalrous and just kill the villain already. You’ll never know the thrill of playing on a purple Game Boy, or using foldable plastic cups in school because that’s what being cool meant. You’ll never say cowabunga before eating pizza on Friday nights while watching Bugs Bunny reruns.
Do you know why, New Generation?
Because you fucking suck.
You suck so much you’ll never fight over who gets to play with the Nintendo 64, and if I may add, getting a Nintendo joystick hurled at your head hurts really bad. You’ll never play with Pokémon cards or run around the house with Power Rangers action figures.
But if I may confess…
The yellow bird thing with the freakishly long neck from Sesame Street scared the living shit out of me.
Enjoy your Instagram accounts and Ipads.
Enjoy learning how to type before learning how to hold a pen.
P.S. What do you even use Instagram for? Posting photos of your Happy Meal toy?
You’ll never be cool.