Screws fall out all the time. The world’s an imperfect place. 
Once upon a time, there was a fourteen-year-old boy who could finally go back to school after an unfortunate accident with gunpowder and fireworks that caused a six-week absence. In the weeks between the beginning of the 1985-86 school year and the gunpowder accident on Sept 25, this boy joined the South Carroll High School choir and met several upperclassmen.
Regular Gen-X Nothing reader, Amy, sends me a link to this song, “Bad Dream,” and postulates the following: “Doesn’t this sound like it came from the early 80s?” Usually, I don’t listen to much new music. It’s mostly garbage. Seriously. Anyone who gets off performing about their “Wet Ass Pussy” must die a slow, painful death. Don’t get...
I Once upon a time, a twelve-year-old boy sat in middle school history class, enjoying the lesson taught on the American Revolution. Mr. Bell taught the course and was one of the few teachers he liked. He’d keep the information from that class because of Mr. Bell’s teaching style. He didn’t make the kids recite boring narratives from textbooks or take endless pop quizzes all year. Mr. Bell would...
I Once upon a time, a fifty-year-old man faced epic writer’s block. He’d been self-publishing his novels since 2011. The first was a short romance-mystery story titled “Without a Word.” It’s not well written (but has since been re-edited not to be so…bad). The psychological thriller “Prisoner of the Game” followed in 2013. As of this 2023 writing, it’s one of his best-sellers, continually...
My Gen-X Nothing Twitter account for this blog is in ‘Twitter Jail.’ Here’s why: The original story had something to do with our pitiful excuse for a White House Press Secretary. You know the one I mean, the one who got hired for being black and gay, just like most of President Houseplant’s administration. I lost the appeal. Apparently, metaphors comparing her lies to that...
I Once upon a time, having not learned his lesson, a thirteen-year-old boy was crushing on yet another girl. For these purposes, we’ll call her Kelly, who was in his eighth-grade class. She wasn’t part of the preppy clique. Instead, she was more…redneck, for lack of a better term. Not one of the farmer cliques necessarily. If you were a teenager in the 80s, you’ll no doubt recognize the...
Recently, a Facebook acquaintance, after reading some of the memoir episodes from this site, duly informed me she doesn’t understand Roman numerals. Really? Huh! Since she’s only a few years younger than me (and a Gen-Xer), her declaration mildly surprised me. I thought my generation knew Roman numerals, mostly because I distinctly recall many of the clocks in elementary and middle school using...
I wrote an article last night about Roman numerals and their importance. Blog filler, basically. I planned to post it today. Then this shit happened. Fucking Facebook and the idiots who infect it. As I’ve stated in the past, I’m part of a handful of Gen-X groups on Facebook. Occasionally we get some people who aren’t Gen-X that say stupid things. They oust themselves reasonably quickly. And then...
Let’s consider the past couple of presidents. Barack Obama is a Baby Boomer. Donald Trump is barely a Baby Boomer. And Biden? President Houseplant? He was born during the Silent Generation. And I wish he’d remember that every time he opens the lying, gaslighting hole in his face. At this rate, the presidency may do the natural thing and skip Generation X entirely. And why not? We’re the forgotten...
I Once upon a time, a six-year-old boy began second grade at Freedom Elementary School in Eldersburg, Maryland. His new teacher, Ms. Soracoe, was a very pretty woman in her mid-twenties who was as sweet as could be. All the kids in her class adored her. She’d give each of her students a friendly hug when they left her classroom after their bus number was called. That little boy looked forward to...
Be excellent to each other...and party on, dudes! 
I am Generation X.
I was born in 1971 and am a resident of Westminster, Maryland. Sarcasm is my first language. I am caustic, politically incorrect, and fiercely opinionated. I have no filter, and I don't do 'woke.' My pronouns are 'fuck around/find out.' I don't care about your truth or your feelings, if you're offended, or what anyone thinks about me.