Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Talkin' Sweet #5: Just This One Thing, Baby, Is All I Ask

Baby, I am in love with you. But baby, I have been a man far longer than I have been in love with you. And I am still only just learning how to love you. The habits that I had before were formed in a world without you. You have changed the shape of my world. Each day for me is like a new awakening, as I discover anew the reborn contours of a world with you in it.

You have changed the shape of my world, just with your blessed presence here beside me, radiating out affecting every thing we touch together and every place we go. The words you have spoken to me have spun the tumblers of the combination lock that guards my heart - you have sprung the door to that safe wide open and taken what is yours, what now belongs to you: my heart, the treasure of all I have to offer you.

But joyful as I am, in this release you have given me - I am also scared. My armor is gone, my protections gone. My heart is free, but it is no longer safe, it is vulnerable. You have me in your keeping, and though I trust you...I am a man for whom trust has come hard in this life.

Just this one thing, baby, is all I ask: give me some time, some understanding, some forgiveness; be lenient with me as I feel my way up to this new level that you have brought me to see. I thought I was grown; I thought I had no more lessons to learn, but you have opened my eyes. You have taught me that there is more to life than what I thought, yet bad habits die hard - all I ask, baby, is to please be patient with me as I struggle to shrug off these dark garments of the past...and let my eyes adjust to your light.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Road Safety Corner #5: Go Bus Go!

So I'm driving South on 17, and the traffic's pretty heavy since Eddie Money's playing at the Boardwalk for free (isn't that ironic?), and last year when he did that it caused 10,000 people to show up. Which is a bit beyond capacity, frankly.

Anyhow, all of a sudden as I'm powering forward in the passing lane with a good dozen car lengths clear ahead of me, here comes this BUS! A big ol' public transit bus, and he's cutting in front of me! Not like he cut me off, but come on! He's a bus. Who's he gonna pass, right?

WRONG. This cat starts laying it down out there. Within a minute, I'm passing all these cars with this bus in front of me, and I'm looking at my speedometer, and this bus is doing better than SEVENTY MILES PER HOUR. And who are these cars, that are getting passed by a bus on the highway? I guess they were determined to go 65 and the bus got sick of it, unbeknownst to me. I just blundered into a pre-existing situation.

So this bus is just plowing down the road, and neatly maneuvering, too! Gets back into the right-hand lane, and starts passing dudes on the right! Whoa, bus! Keanu Reeves better be on board at this point!

But really, he was driving expertly* and wasn't in any way being unsafe, not really. I was very impressed because when he first pulled in front, I was telling him off LOUDLY. "Oh, NICE MOVE, bus! What an ASSHOLE! I never saw such a..." hey wait, you're kind of hauling ass here, I need to catch up a bit before I continue berating!

Never had cause to.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

So I Saw 300

Yeah, I saw 300. I say it's a Great movie. Capital G. For "Greek," possibly.

I have to caution that there were some family-unfriendly elements, specifically, sex-type elements. Some sort-of perverted-type sequences, with lurid eroticism.

There was also a lot of violence, but that of course is family-friendly. Families love to thrill to battle scenes with excessive disembowelments, decapitations. Et cetera. Ultimately, I would say that the amount of family-friendly violence roughly cancelled out the amount of family-unfriendly nudity and sexual situations, so that the film overall was family-neutral.

Great film. I commend it and I recommend it.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The Onus Is On Me

I love "the onus." It's like "the impetus," except...maybe a little bit more onerous.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Perfect Deviled Eggs, Every Time

I don't fucking know how I do it. There's no consistency to my method! Sometimes I use that extra special mustard from that little jam shop we go to up the coast. Sometimes we're out of that mustard and I use French's Classic Yellow. Sometimes I fuck up one of the egg "cups" and end up putting it into the bowl with the yolks to mash into filling. Other times it's an all-yolk whites-free filling mix. The amount of salt and pepper I put in the mix is random and variable.

Sometimes I don't even use paprika, like, if I can't find any. Some people say, "paprika adds no flavor" - and it's true, it isn't the most pungent of spices, but if they say it adds no flavor...when it comes to deviled eggs, they're just awesomely wrong. ALWAYS add paprika. In fact, when I said before that sometimes I didn't, I revoke that. That was just an example. I'm sure that I did, every single time. Otherwise, the end result could not possibly have been perfect!

And it's ALWAYS perfect. Every damn time. I don't know how I do it!

A fool might be tempted to observe that "maybe it just isn't all that hard to make deviled eggs." But you weren't listening, fool! I said these deviled eggs were perfect. Let's have one of yours! I'll bet they're not bad. I bet they're respectable. But I also bet they're not perfect.


And if they are, well. Kudos to you too then, dude. You deserve it. How do we do it? I mean, how do we? It's pretty uncanny, speaking for my own self. Maybe you've got a recipe or something, you use as a crutch.

Sometimes I add a tweak of balsamic vinegar in there. You know what a good trick is? Any time you're going to go out to dinner that evening, and you don't want to spoil your appetite, but you feel like you can't hold out until the appointed time...just fix yourself some deviled eggs. Put 'em on a little paper plate and walk around with a drink! You'll feel like you're at a party while you wait. Then when it's finally time to go, you're not only ready to eat, you've already had a pretty classy appetizer.

You're ahead of the game.

If You Have Something Bad to Say...

If you have something bad to say about me - say it behind my back, so I don't have to pretend your opinion matters.

Ham Sandwich, Man

Ham sandwich is how I live my life. People talk about other things, I talk about other things, but it all comes back to one thing: ham sandwich.

That's how I roll. A sweet roll. How do others roll? That's the other question.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Klaxons, Fist Fite July 11th at the Great American Music Hall

The Klaxons are great. Look at these guys.

They're great!

Great band name. Fits them perfectly!

I dunno. I'll remember the show later. I can write about it then.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Quote of the Day

"Do not weep over absent friends. Weep over present enemies." - me

Partial Thought of the Day

But by then he'd espied the infinite mote in God's eye.

Not Only That But This

Not only am I going to be late to my own funeral - I'm going to insist they start the whole thing over again from the beginning!

Monday, July 09, 2007

A Thought of the Day to Live By

Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards boring the shit out of other people with it.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

A Collection of My Own Tom Swifties

These were all posted on an old message board years ago where a bunch of us were coming up with them, but I have a feeling the whole board may be taken down soon, so! For Posterity:

(Note that many of these don't make any sense to me now, and may have been alluding to conversations then-current on the board. Many are based on obvious puns that have surely been used before for Swifties. Others are just plain unapologetically bad. Sorry!)

AHEM. For Posterity:

"But I don't want to play Biff. I wanted to play Biff's brother!" Tom said unhappily.

"I'm gonna treat you like Persephone!" Tom said rapaciously.

"What do you say I divide my estate between my three daughters right now?" Tom leered.

"Our top army brass are idiots...I could do a better job," Tom generalized.

"I'm sorry Claire, but I've been sleeping with Jeanine," Tom declared.

"Take a look at these entrails," Tom said ominously.

"My assignment is late because my computer crashed." Tom reasoned.

"I'm sick of these marital tiffs!" Tom spat.

"But I wasn't ready to throw!" Tom balked.

"So you ate all the Fruzen Gladje..." Tom said icily.

"What a perfectly-made, three-pronged ninja weapon," Tom sighed.

"I said, Peter and I are getting back together!" she repeated.

"I'm not on anyone's side anymore!" Tom decided.

"I have no idea who was Pope in 1203 A.D." Tom said innocently.

"Just a minute! I'm putting on my trousers," Tom panted.

"Oh man, they made my Reuben with whole wheat bread!" Tom said wryly.

"I sure do miss the conifers," Tom pined.

"They just smell nicer than deciduous trees." Tom opined.

"Shhhh! I've almost finished filing through this wrought-iron latticework!" Tom rasped gratingly.

"This place is on fire, and I'm fanning the flames!" Tom bellowed.

"If you guys don't stop, I'll have to stop you myself" Tom said haltingly.

"This game hen is really overcooked," Tom groused.

"Wanna make a quick $20?" Tom said solicitously.

"I have an autographed pair of Michael Jordan's sneakers!" Tom said airily.

"The murderer is one of the people in this room," Tom said mysteriously.

"It's only something in my eye!" Tom cried.

"We don't know for sure yet, but I bet it's going to be a boy," Tom predicted.

"What a purdy mouth on that pig!" Tom squealed.

"Let's split it right down the middle," Tom said evenly.

"I am one drunk honkey!" Tom slurred.

"I can read Gulliver's Travels in 20 minutes," Tom said swiftly.

"I'm going to steal your milkshakes!" Tom grimaced evilly.

"Check out the hot chick on trumpet," Tom said hornily.

"I did her in the can," Tom said candidly.

"I've got some large balls, made of a copper/zinc alloy." Tom said brassily.

"I will not be cowed!" Tom lowed.

"I was never here," Tom said absently.

"They won't keep me locked in here forever," Tom said cagily.

"The score's still zero to zero in tonight's strip lingerie soccer match," Tom said naughtily.

"I wish I was a man," Tom's girlfriend said beguilingly.

"Hold down that key before you click," said Tom shiftily.

"That Titanic villian sure is handsome," Tom said zanily.

"Oooh, BarraCUda!!" Tom sang heartily.

"Does this thong make me look fat?" Tom said cheekily.

"And after that, pour me a Guinness in 3 seconds flat!" Blue said headily.

"I wish I had a real motorcycle," Tom moped.

"I left Grandmother behind." Tom said ungrammatically.

"You'll notice I made that last shot with my left hand," Tom said off-handedly.

"Wow, that fellow has been getting some sun," Tom said tangentially.

"Alright, Joe - who died and made you King?" Tom asked jokingly.

"Drat! I missed the hole by inches," Tom said off-puttingly.

"One of our night watchmen has been killed." Tom said unguardedly.

"I hope things get better by this afternoon," Tom said mournfully.

"I can feel it in my testes," Tom said manfully.

"Yes, I know bestiality is illegal" Tom said sheepishly.

"You can't just kill an endangered marine mammal for its blubber!" Tom wailed.

"How on earth can you slaughter that innocent whale!" Tom blubbered.

"You think I'm too fat!" Tom blubbered.

"Show me first your penny," Tom said warily.

"I deliberately left the Bambino off my list of all-time greatest hitters," Tom said ruthlessly.

"How can you not pity us, Lee?" Tom asked piteously.

"Fe Fo Fum!" Tom said defiantly.

"I thought this night would last forever!" Tom mourned.

"Your regime is at an end, darling." Tom cooed.

"Run this jackass out of town!" Tom railed.

"Can't you just see that we know God exists because the Bible tells us so?" Tom begged, questioningly.

"Once more!" Tom said, with feeling.

"I can't tell if this means hello or bye-bye," Tom wavered.

"Okay, fine...go exhume the corpse." Tom said disinterestedly.

"Here's your sample!" Tom said spunkily.

"I have two pet rodents of the genus Microtus," Tom divulged.

"Your resignation is overdue, Ed" Tom expostulated.

"I'll shave when I'm good and ready!" Tom bristled.

"I hate what you've done to your hair," Tom said cuttingly.

"I can't believe it! Out of glue again!" Tom sniffed.

"So I'll be sleeping in the spare room while I'm visiting with you?" Tom guessed.

"Your gown is transparent!" Tom peeped.

"Let the engine run while the battery charges up," Tom said idly.

"Connery was the second-best Bond," Tom said piercingly.

"I wish I fully understood the rules to this British card game," Tom said whistfully.

"I'll knock you over the cliff," Tom bluffed.

"I don't much care for the taste of this pie," Tom said humbly.

"There is no pain...You are receding..." Tom comforted, numbly.

"That's it. It's all over," Tom croaked.

"Oi! My twinkie is spilling its filling!" Tom ejaculated.

"I'm not going to let you serve time for this," Tom said unstintingly.

"Grace, your microphone skills are wiggity wack" Tom said disgracefully.

"Ed, get in here!" Tom commanded.

"I'm not going to stop now," Tom continued.

"Is that a bear out there?" Tom said, intently.

"Shrinp," Tom said inpossibly.

"No more of these tiffs!" Tom spat.

"I can shorten your skirt and plow that side of the field at the same time," Tom hemmed and hawed.

"Listen youse, maybe I'm supposed to be joining your little familia here, but I ain't gonna kill nobody," Tom made no bones about it.

"My, how you've gotten three inches taller!" Tom groaned.

"I am no longer a minister," Tom said irreverently.

"The 'chanter' is the part you blow on," Tom piped up.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a crow, or any similar bird!" Tom said ravenously.

"Oh yeah? Well you can just suck your own snakebite wound, then!" Tom spat venomously.

"Curses! Foiled again!" Tom said snidely.

"Well, it's coming up on Easter soon, and I've decided to start observing Catholic rituals again," Tom relented.

"This is the third time I've mailed you this check," Tom said resentfully.

"I'm giving up my mining rights in Prospectors Gulch," Tom declaimed.

"Well I thought the walking trees were the stupidest part of the movie," Tom dissented.

"Yep, that guy's a dog alright!" Tom concurred.

"I'm about to lose consciousness," Tom said faintly.

"I wonder what it would be like to be a cow," Tom ruminated.

"Mark!" Tom exclaimed.

"Boy! Put these two in the cauldron and agitate them in a circular manner with this wooden spoon," the witch said boisterously.

"I'm afraid there were some errors in my recent manifesto," Tom retracted.

"I never met the Science Guy," Tom denied.

"She took her top off!" Tom tittered.

"Observe how I can hold the note, even while inhaling," Tom intoned.

"I got this ant farm from NASA. It used to be on the International Space Station," Tom said exorbitantly.

"I wonder if it was a mistake to put this small body of water here," Tom pondered.

"Shut up, Ed!" Tom interrupted.

"I'm the richest gal in the kingdom," Jen said meatily.

"Ick! That man is eyeing me," said Lee maniacally.

"So Greg, can you guess who's my favorite old-school heretic?" Tom asked gregariously.

"I wrote this fan letter to the actor who played Ben Cartwright, but he died before I could send it," Tom said forlornly.

"This wharf was intended for loading and unloading cargo from ships, but it's nowhere near high enough!" Tom said loquaciously.

"Execute him!" Tom said summarily.

"Okay...I'm going to give you a deal here" Tom said, cuttingly.

"Global population is out of control!" Tom exploded.

"I even can't remember who coached the Cowboys in 1999," Tom said gaily.

"But I don't want to be seated in a booth!" Tom countered.

"The edit window appears to have been suspended," Tom...edited...windowly.

"That's all I have to say about the minimall." Tom said minimally.

"That concert was so loud I have tinnitus!" Tom declared in ringing tones.

"I've decided to start plying my trade again," Tom replied.

"I sure do love Tom Swifties!" Tom said narcissistically.

"Tom Swifties do not exist," Tom said self-abnegatingly.

The Discovery Channel is Hurting the Environment

It seems like every time I turn on the Discovery Channel, there's some program on the ice age or the globally hot and muggy dinosaur times of old, or various extremes of climate from the planet's past. These programs are very harmful in my view, because they undermine what we now know to be true:

1) the natural state of affairs is two polar ice caps, hot summers, cold winters, just such as we've always known it.

2) since that is the natural state of the world, any change in that state is due to humanity's direct and harmful influence.

So knock it off, Discovery Channel! You're diluting our focus and determination, by dragging up all this irrelevant ancient history. As if vast climate change could ever occur without it being directly our fault! The comfort of the globe itself is at stake here, so cool it with the off-message rhetoric.

Ixnay on the aturalnay istoryhay.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Photobucket Link Test

You know, it's hard for a copyright-conscious dude like me to figure out what to use for my test image to link to, on the photobucket account I just created. I don't want to use an image that someone else owns. That rules out all the JPGs cluttering up my desktop - in fact, it basically rules out all my JPGs except for a lot of holiday snaps which, frankly, are too personal for the purpose.

So I drew a picture.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

In fact, maybe I should change the entire purpose of this blog to displaying doodles of little characters such as this tyke right here.

The name of this rapscallion is Wee Lad.

Into the Indefinite Future!

I just like that phrase. Stirring yet cautionary.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Ask The Scientificus

The Scientificus is an oblong puppet of indeterminate species, well-known for answering (with aplomb) a wide range of expert-level scientific questions from children of all ages.

Q: [ Mary, Age 23 ] Dear Scientificus, I have a question about heat conductivity. My stove is one of those electric ranges where the whole stovetop is a white surface, with four "burners" marked on it. Each "burner" is just a dotted-line circle, with the heating element underneath. But since the whole stove top is made out of one continuous surface, I don't understand something. How is the surface able to conduct heat from the heating element to the frying pan, without conducting heat across the whole surface of the stovetop? Even when I turn the right front burner on high, the left front area of the stove stays cool enough for me to rest the palm of my hand flat on it.

A: Mary, you are quite right to ask, and thank you for the very nice photos. Arthur C. Clarke was well known for saying that if a technology was sufficiently advanced, it would look like magic. This is a perfect instance of that principle in action. Scientists have for years tried to unlock the secret of how stovetops such as yours are able to regulate - in an almost sentient-seeming manner - the flow of heat. Much progress has been made, but as yet Science has been unable to identify the precise composition of the stovetop material, or the source of its exotic propeties. For a time in the past, it was thought that an as-yet-undiscovered form of radiation was involved, and so such stoves could no longer be sold. Fortunately, radioactivity has long since been ruled out! My advice to you is: rest easy. Science is hard at work on the problem, and we may confidently expect answers within our lifetime. Your stovetop presents no immediate threat, as long as you use it in accordance with the manufacturer's instructions.

Q: [ Jeanna, Age 19 ] Dear Scientificus, life gave me a lemon tree, and so I have been making lemonade! Online recipies vary, and I'm having trouble perfecting the mix. Can you set me straight? What is the right proportion of water to sugar to juice?

A: Congratulations on your lemon tree, Jeanna! I myself have a lemon tree out back. First of all, you'll need to find out whether your tree gives regular lemons or Meyer lemons. Meyer lemons are less acidic and sweeter (which will affect how much sugar you need to use). Mine is a Meyer lemon tree. A lot of people have tried to tell me that my Meyer lemons are not real lemons. They claim that the Meyer lemon is a crossbreed between the true lemon and a mandarin orange. These people are morons. Yes, it's true that the Meyer lemon (Citrus × meyeri) is a hybrid. But so is the regular lemon! Citrus × limon is thought to be a cross between the citron and the mandarin. Almost all of our familiar citrus fruits are hybrids, and not true species - so calling yours true and mine not true seems rather a spurious point to make! It's possible to graft from one tree to another very easily, from a lemon to a lime, a lime to a lemon...frankly, all their purity talk smacks of fruity eugenics to me. My proud Meyers are every bit the lemon those dowdy standard lemons are! In fact, they are hardier, better-tasting, better-smelling, better all around! So the first thing you need to do, Jeanna, is ascertain what type of lemon tree you have. If it's a Meyer lemon - give thanks! If not, if it's just a regular lemon tree...don't settle. Chop it down. The wood should still make a sweet-smelling fire! Plant a Meyer lemon tree in its place. It should be producing fruit in about 4 years.

The Scientificus answers questions on all scientific disciplines except for alethiology. When submitting your question it is considered polite to include photographs of yourself. Not every question can be answered, but every photo will definitely be looked at. The Scientificus thanks you!

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Thought of the Independence Day

Smiles are contagious...but they're easily cured.

It's NOT "The Fourth of July"

Well...I mean yes it is, technically of course. I know that. But let's have none of this "Happy 4th of July" crap! Yesterday was the third of July, tomorrow will be the fifth of July and SO WHAT. This is a holiday we're celebrating, one that praises up a certain aspect of the nation that we've all come to prize over the years. So show some respect. Respect the sacrifice of the troops who make sure that's there for YOU and for YOUR posterity, come the collective morrow. Call it by it's proper name.

Happy Indepence Day everybody.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

In Celebration of The 1-Day Weekend!!

Wow. When I was looking at the calendar a month ago, and noticing that July 4th was on a Wednesday, I said to myself: that's really going to suck monkeys' udders. It falls too far from both Sunday and Friday for there to be any association with either weekend! But now that it's here, I've changed my tune to Yankee Doodle and I'm beating it to a different drum. In short: I am absolutely loving the 1-Day Weekend. I think that we should look seriously at moving July 4th to a permanent Wednesday placement. But we should do more than just that. Every week should have a "Wednesday off" in the middle!

Plenty of places allow a 10 hour day, four day work week. But they generally schedule your four work days straight in a row! Talk about a recipe for burnout. Yet: suppose they didn't? What if it was Saturday-Sunday off, Monday-Tuesday 10-hour days, Wednesday OFF!, Thursday-Friday 10-hour days? Picture coming in Monday knowing you have Wednesday just waiting there for you, smack in the middle of the week - a nice little siesta! Imagine never having to work more than two days in a row. Yet you'd still have a full 2-day weekend to back it up, and a productive 40-hour work week!

CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW SWEET THAT WOULD BE?? Work-related burnout would be a thing of the past!

Obviously we're only talking about people who work the standard Mon-Fri grind, here. Your transportation workers, restaurant and hotel staff, cops, emergency workers...well, all of those people are union anyway, right? They're covered under a separate agreement.

But for the workaday office worker, what a new day to dawn this would be. What a boon! And as we stand here, on the week of our Founding Parents' 231nd Anniversary of their Declaration of's like a sweet preview for you, of what my sweet proposal would be like.

Thank God they signed that thing up on the 4th. If it had been the 3rd or the 5th, I might never have had it occur to me. And when you think upon what sort of a razor's edge that coincidence hangs...! When would be the next opportunity for that to have happened? For it to fall on a Wednesday, equidistant from both proximate weekends? Here's a mathematical projection of the next time when that might happen: probably not for a thousand years.

That's due to Leap Year interference. The ancients never had to deal with that. They just had a wide clump of days during March which they referred to as the "Ides." They would make this clump of days longer or shorter, depending on how close they got it the year before. A far better system - and one which later gave rise to the saying: "the Ides of March."

You'll pardon me if I take in a wide range of topics. That just shows you how broad my open mind can get.

And nothing's more U.S.A. than that!

Monday, July 02, 2007

Once Again Singin' the Blues

When You Comin' Back

by Theseus T. Gitdownchile Jr.

When you comin' back woman?
woman, when you comin' back?
I got hard luck growin' in my sugar-field
and the sun is beaten down
beaten on my face and back

but I know...

there's a cool, juicy wind that's gonna blow
when I see you comin' back to me,
see you floatin down the sky, on a silversweet cloud
a sweet rain-cloud, with that blessed rain
like the train of your silver gown
watering these parched lips

I been standing outside in this field,
in this parched field for so long,
for so long now...
When you comin' back to me woman?
Without you I ain't got the sense to go inside

When you comin' back woman?
woman, when you comin' back?
I got hard luck growin' in my sugar-field
and the sun is beaten down
beaten on my face and back
with you gone, all I got is lack
now woman -
When you comin' back?

harmonica solo

lord, that was a very poor harmonica solo
that was some piss-poor harmonica playin' right there
all I do since you left woman, is sit around and play harmonica
but I never get any better though do I
Nothing gets better since you left now, woman -
When you comin' back?

When you comin' back woman?
woman, when you comin' back?
I got hard luck growin' in my sugar-field
and the sun is beaten down
beaten on my face and back
nothing gets better since you left now, woman -
When you comin' back?

even worse harmonica solo

fade out

Sunday, July 01, 2007

The Baby Boomer Legacy: What? Huh? Oh.

The Baby Boomers. What did they give us? Free love? Bullshit, the sexual revolution was old news 30 years before they took center stage. Rock and Roll? Bullshit again. I'll take Bill Haley over Elvis 10 days out of seven, and that dude was born in the twenties. The Peace Movement? Shit, all they did for that was make it garish and fashionable. There were Zazous in occupied France getting rounded up and beaten for their opt-out stance during WWII, and arguably in Los Angeles the Zoot-suiters were beaten as much for their refusal to embrace the dominant pro-military culture as for the more usually-cited racist reasons. To say nothing of the well-organized, high-profile peace movements that followed in the wake of the Great War (later renamed World War Episode I in a move that would inspire George Lucas).

So what? What did the Baby Boomers - the rank and file members of that generation - what did they actually contribute? Apart from an insufferably chummy back-slapping sense of group entitlement? Apart from the way that almost all of them can summon up a righteous sense of self-identification with the accomplishments of "their generation"? Even if their specific contribution amounted to approximately jack shit?

Well, I guess they were an enthusiastic audience. Many skilled purveyors of pop rebellion either emerged from or were sustained by that demographic - some truly great entertainers, who were nurtured by those swollen masses of ticket- and album-buyers. It's good to support what's good, even if you personally had zilch to do with it. There are worse legacies than to have been avid and enthusiastic consumers of pop rebellion. That's a pretty important (if ultimately passive) role. Because the thing about pop rebellion is, if no one buys it - the rebellion fails. So bully for them, for that.

It seems to me that the main contribution of the Baby Boomer generation was Youth Culture. Youth Culture means that whatever the immediately preceding generation had established as good is bad. Throw it out! We need to come up with our Own Thing. Change is Good. Change is All. Youth Culture means that the coolest thing in the world is whatever a 14-year old thinks. And if you even try to deny that, then you're so far past it you might as well not bother trying to flip a U-turn. Just look for the next exit to Squaresville and start pricing starter mortgages. The only way to be cool and keep cool is to pander to the tastes of the youngest demographic currently making purchasing decisions.

Probably the most annoying part of being a Baby Boomer is that any time you try to pull rank or defend your legacy from some snotnose twit, all the twit has to do is play the Youth Card - the card that Boomers are wholly responsible for enshrining as the dominant pop cultural paradigm - and the twit wins on principle. Because, pops: you old. Don't blame me, you invented that shit. Before you came along, it was "respect your elders."

Well, if it's any consolation to their parents (wherever they may now be), the Boomer generation is aging far more pathetically than any other generation has or likely ever will. The youth-faking industry has never seen such boom times! Clutching their faded relevance, having left everything they used to use to justify it irretrievably behind, they chug forward to face their own old age. I say: in recognition of their achievements, we should keep humoring their Youth Culture paradigm until all of them are finished dying off, or at least until they've become too senile to appreciate the irony any more.

But after that, let's bury it with them. Because...honestly. What a stupid idea in the first place.