Like many former miscreants, I am now a responsible adult. One of my primary responsibilities in this capacity is to be distraught at the current state of the youth today. Maybe the Hollister sample size is too small from which to make an accurate judgement, but obviously I won't let that stop me.

The main problem is most of my employees still live at home, and consequently don't understand life very well. It's like they're in the matrix or something, but they don't care, because it seems fun. As a consequence, their perception is very cloudy. For example: Brittany the cheerleader comes to me last week, indignant that she will no longer be allowed to attend cheer camp because she went to a gigantic party, tried to poison herself to death with tequila, and then passed out on the lawn. I know, Brittany. The heart-wrenching injustice of it all.

This twisted perception is not necessarily their fault--buying an endless supply of ham sandwhiches and Bud Light at the Shell station with your dad's gas card can sometimes distort your perspective. Granted, I bought the occasional gas station burrito myself, when the moment was right. But here's the difference: I knew that spending $20 on burritos and Slim Jims with the patriarch's gas card was both economically inefficient, and unsustainable in the long term. The obvious moral here is that if you know what you're doing is wrong, it's okay. That last sentence probably wouldn't hold up to stringent logic tests, so I hope you read it really fast without thinking.

To you post-boomer parents who have managed to successfully spawn additional humans: This essay is not an indictement on modern-day parenting. Honestly, I'm not implying that teenagers are easy to handle, or even human, really. It's just I'm going to have to make a few tweaks here and there to your overall parenting style. Based on conversations with my Hollister subordinates, my suspicion is that most recent child-rearing techniques in America have been limited to one or both of the following conversations:

Mom: Where are you going with that piece of crack rock?

Brittany: Not to smoke it, that's for sure.

Mom: Well I would hope not. Give it here. I need it for...safekeeping.

Brittany: Safekeeping means using it yourself, right?

Mom: Nevermind about that. After you keep it safe, bring the rest of it home so that I can keep it safe as well. In my room. And then don't bother me for an hour.

Brittany: That's not fair!

Mom: No, you being prettier than I ever was is not fair. Just try not to get pregnant too many times tonight.

Brittany: You know I can't promise that.

Mom: Fine, goodbye.

By the way, in the example above, Brittany got pregnant and gave birth two times at the same party and smoked all the crack herself. That's very sad, but it's true.

As if that's not bad enough, the dialogue below is taken from an actual exchange between a male teen and his father. In all likelihood.

Father: Will there be alcohol at the party?

Teen: What's alcohol?

Father: Broadly defined, the intoxicating agent in fermented and distilled liquors (ethanol).

Teen: Oh. No, I don't think there will be any of that. I would just dump it all out if I saw it anyway, like if it was in a massive keg.

Father: That's my boy.


At any rate, my payment for having made light of these topics will most likely be future offspring with a penchant for puppy-killing. In time, they will become serial murderers, and eventually they will kill me. So don't think I can't see that coming. Yet, I know that my calls for improved parenting will not go unheeded, and this makes the sacrifice worthwhile.

To recap today's lesson, don't use your kids' drugs. Buy them on the street, just like they did. This will keep you more in touch with what they're going through on a daily basis. Also, I understand that there are a lot of good kids out there, but now that I've written this post, I will never have them. Which is a shame, because I obviously have a knack for this stuff. Alright, I'll talk to you guys later.