A Diary Of Life Among Millennials

Month: June 2017

The New Solon’s


Last night two recently minted late 20 something lawyers from a local law school were sitting next to me at the Local. During the course of their conversation, which may or may not have been in an English vernacular known to anyone other than Millennials of their vintage and place, the Juris Doctors in question decried the lack of a good education system in the US.

JD 1 – The reason our schools be like fucking like suck in LA dog is because of bilingual education, man.

JD¬†2 – You’re so fucking right holmes. We teach too many kids in their own language yo.

JD 1 – Bro, we can’t teach kids from like Spain and like Portugal and like Mexico and like Great Britain in their own tongue. It costs too much money holmes.

JD 2 – Especially like the kids from like Great Britain, bro. Teaching their language fucks our shit up, yo.

JD 1 – We should run you for office bro. Then you can fuck their shit up.

I give you the Solon’s for the next generation. Somewhere Mr. Churchill is crying into his brandy.

A Stand Up Guy

As I waited for my chicken and rice at the local food truck, a local Meth Freak wrapped in a tattered blue and red sleeping bag tries to get my attention.

Meth Freak: Hey Goombah.

I ignore him.

Meth Freak: Hey Goombah look at this.

He pushes a lottery ticket with all the boxes scratched off under my nose.

Meth Freak: Do you know what a symbol is?

Me: Of course.

Meth Freak: Numbers are symbols too, right?

Me: How the fuck would I know? Numbers are numbers and symbols are symbols…unless it’s 666.

Meth Freak: Thanks Goombah. You’re a stand up guy.

I’d like to thank said Meth Freak for proving once again there is a fine line between Italian and Jew. So I got a Roman nose, what can you do?

The Messiah Will Be Clean Shaven


As I was crossing Beverly to get my morning coffee in a gray hoodie, cargo shorts and sunglasses an elderly Latina lady in a white blouse and blue jeans grabbed my elbow and told me I was the Messiah come again to save the world. She kissed my hand then walked down Kenmore Ave followed by two Millennial hipster types with long ZZ Top in ten years auburn beards wearing identical blue and gray shirts.

“He does look like the Messiah, doesn’t he,” he breathlessly agreed with her.

It seems the rules have changed. From now on, the Second Coming in hipster millennial circles will be clean shaven. I guess DeLillo was right. When it comes to facial hair don’t bother. Show them the bland expanse. It is more effective than one would think.

Man Bun and A Line


As I was walking back from the market in the broiling gloaming I saw in the distance a couple arguing on the lawn next to my building. Although I tried to ignore them, I found myself gawking at them surreptitiously. The young lady was wearing a gray A line suit with the skirt hitting just below the knees, a long sleeve jacket and an envelope hat. He was dressed in true bro style: shorts, ripped t-shirts flip flops and a man bun. Not just any man bun but one that was dyed bright pink with the rest of his brown hair frosted at the tips.

I tried to walk past quickly but it was then I heard their voices in this disagreement about something in a language that sounded like English but the words seemed to be in all the wrong places for the standard subject, object, predicate style; these were my neighbors across the driveway, they of the ‘Angry Chair‘ karaoke and the decision that every song needs a hip hop beat behind it. All surreptitiousness left me. I just turned and glared.

“Do you have a problem,” A Line asked me with a true tone of shrill righteous indignation in her voice.

I quickly regained my composure. “I’m loving your outfit. The Maxene Andrews homage? Love it! Truly fabulous.”

“This look is totally my creation. I would never stoop to look like some stupid disco singer from 1979!” With that she turned on the heel of her Spectator pump and jumped into the Lyft that had just arrived for her.

I turned back and Man Bun was standing in a pose that was half run in the house half let me get in your face. “You are so sexist,” he said and marched into the house.

I walked the last 10 feet back to the house confused. I know I had been properly chastised but I’m not quite sure for what.