I went to Target tonight. It’s located near a movie theater. It was overrun with teenagers that seemed to be killing time (and buying candy) prior to going to the movies. They were in groups, running, giggling, shoving each other, texting, bouncing balls from the toy section and just being general pains in the butt. I was trying to find some new bras in the womens intimate apparel section and several groups of the youngsters traipsed through and giggled at the underthings. One even took cell phone pics and a couple of the groups had boys with them. When I was a teenager we would rather have dropped dead than have a boy see us shopping for underwear. Kids these days!
As I was paying one young man behind me in line who was yakking to his friends with his back to me bumped into me quite hard as I was using the debit card machine and I let out an exasperated “excuse me!”, he did half-heartedly apologize. Then I decided I needed some caffeine and stood in line at the Starbucks counter in the Target. Another couple of teens start screaming and pushing each other and bumped into me and I loudly said “will you please stop!”. At this point the words “hooligans”, “brats” and even “whippersnappers” came to mind. That is when I realized I had become an old fogey.
Oh well. I’d better get to bed soon so I can be up early to yell at the kids to get off my lawn.
Ha- I had one of those moments today. My youngest son and I were in the car and he wanted to listen to a Justin Timberlake song. I said, “That is not music.” Then I turned it to the classic rock station and said, “Now that’s music- that’s the Rolling Stones, son!
I’ve been walking in central park
Singing after dark
People think I’m crazy
I’ve been stumbling on my feet
Shuffling through the street
Asking people, what’s the matter with you boy?*”
Then I laughed my ass off because I just realized that I AM OLD.
I was walking out of the library the other day, with two small children in tow, and there was a knot of youngish teenagers standing around out front. One of them in particular was using a lot of swear words, rather loudly.
Without even really thinking about it, I gave him such a look. He immediately looked sheepish and muttered an apology.
I capitulate to my kids in the car, except on Sundays. That’s my radio day and they know it. On Sunday the classic rock station here digs a bit deeper into the vault and plays stuff not normally conducive to 10 minute commercial breaks.
Well, we might have some debate. I’d allow music up to 1989. There was some quite good music recorded in the 80’s from Bruce Springsteen, John Fogerty (now there’s a fogey name! ), John Mellencamp, and Don Henley, among others, none of it shabby at all. And would you say any of Van Halen’s albums up to 1984 were a decline? But absolutely no music from 1990 onwards.
I did walk to school. In the snow. Uphill. Both ways.
I remember when you only had an antenna to pick up TV stations. And there wer only 4 or 5. And they still made black and white sets with large screen sizes.
I remember when stereos were in large pieces of furniture instead of no larger than a pack of gum.
I *have * a rotary dial phone. It weighs a ton. It’s pink!! The previous owners of our house left it for us. Yes, it works - we’ve got it connected in the basement.
The first TV I owned (my grandmother gave it to me when I was in college) was black-and-white. And at said college, I *did * walk to class uphill both ways (I lived in Lafayette on top of a hill and the university is in West Lafayette on another hill) in the snow.
The first and only rock concert I went to featured headliners Herman’s Hermits!!
My strategy was to dial once, but hold the last number at the metal stop with my finger, count to 100, and then release the last number.
Never won anything, though, so I can’t say it was all that *good *of a strategy. But I was 1 caller off a few times, or so the person answering phones claimed. I bet she told *all *the callers they were one off just to torture them, though.
I’d like to see the music boundary pushed forward to 2007, as I have become smitten with my daughter’s Mika CD and am considering buying a copy for myself.
Bear in mind that the Bad Kids you’re seeing acting up at Target and Starbucks were the same Bad Kids you’d see acting up at a soda fountain or billiard parlor or vaudeville house or the Globe Theater, during the various eras of Western Civilization.
The Good Kids are always at home, doing homework, see. Which is why you never see them standing in line politely, waiting to buy a ticket.
It’s not a “kids nowadays!” issue, it’s a sampling group issue.
So you’re not such an old fogey after all–you’re just witnessing a statistical blip.
Target has Starbucks in them near you? Our Targets just have crappy generic snack bars with hot dogs of uncertain provenance and stale big pretzels that you can get with a plastic cheeselike substance on them.
As to the OP: yes, I too am a fogey. I realized a few years ago that I have almost no knowledge of popular music after about 1995. When I see the tabloids and media magazines at the checkout counter I have no idea who most of the people on the cover are. There are movies coming out (like Transformers) that peddle nostalgia for a property that I completely missed the first time around.
I was born when LBJ was president. I think anyone who was born pre-Reagan probably is in danger of imminent fogeyism, if not already there.
Not only is there a Starbucks in the Target but there is a Starbucks in the same shopping center and a Panera. All in the same vicinity. If you go to the other side of the shopping center it is severely lacking in coffee places and you might suffer withdrawl.
Ack! I was born when Eisenhower was president! You can’t be younger than me and be a fogey because that would make me even more of a fogey. I forbid you to be a fogey. Listen to your elders, you young punk!
Heh. My sixteen year old daughter’s best friend is a boy, and the last time we went to Target we took him with us. He had, we thought, wandered off to the electronics section as my daughter and I went looking for her hard-to-find (at Target, anyway) bra size. After about ten minutes of mostly fruitless searching, her friend showed up with about 15 bras. He had systematically combed the lingerie section and grabbed every bra he found in her size. And he was so proud of himself! It was kind of adorable.
I’m surrounded by teenagers constantly, so my tolerance is pretty high. That said, I firmly consider myself a fogey, and I’m occasionally alarmed at their disagreement. My Christmas gifts from my daughter and said friend were:
The MCR Black Parade collector’s edition
A grey (“To match your coat!”) pinstripe newsboy style hat *from Hot Topic * (which is actually kind of cute, dammit)
A ring for a piercing that I don’t currently have, which they feel I should ("You’d *totally * rock that, Mom!)
I’d think they were making fun of me, if they weren’t so adorably earnest about it.
So I reminded them I’m an old lady by pinching their cheeks, pushing their emo hair out of their faces, and telling them how cute they are.