Our generation is fucked. This isn’t some earth shattering discovery or anything, I mean, birds are falling from the sky, our work ethic is akin to a goldfish, and by the time we retire, well, we won’t be able to. But that’s not what I’m talking about right now. I’m talking about how our parents ruined it for us. At least mine did. Think about some of the coolest, best bands and musicians of all time, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin. Who do they remind you of? They remind me of my parents. And the worst part is, they probably remind my parents of smoking hash in the back of a pickup truck in Michigan or blowing lines in the bathroom at CBGBs. Our parents ruined “cool”. I have it really bad, because growing up I was convinced that my parents were the least cool people on the planet, because they had a compost pile and practiced Buddhism and played the drums and danced like they were at Woodstock. It was easy to hate them and save up for Tiffany’s bracelets and Kate Spade bags and Sketchers because it was rebellious. But then I graduated from college and I moved to New York, and guess what the cool hipsters, that I so badly wanted to be like, were doing? They were composting and practicing eastern religion and playing the bongos and dancing like their bones were made of cafeteria pudding, and to top it all off, all of the men looked exactly like my dad did thirty years ago. My parents rebelled against their “square” parents with corporate jobs and Tupperware parties, if my choice to rebel against my “hipster” parents is go to get a corporate job and buy a Le Creuset pot collection (okay, I actually do want one of those) then count me out. Now, every time I go see an awesome new band, the bongo player reminds me of my dad and that’s not good for anyone’s libido.