Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday.
Shouting at my parents about how unfair it was that they insist I be home for tea, home again to go to bed, brush my teeth, turn my lights out and go to sleep, get up for school, do my homework and blah blah blah.
Their list of stupid pointless rules was bloody endless – it became perfectly obvious to me around the age of fourteen that no intelligent person should be forced to endure this draconian regime, and I let the intellectual homunculi know so in no uncertain terms.
And the lofty and pompous arrogance with which these dreary praetorians informed me, ME!, that “while I lived under their roof, I would have to live by their rules”!
I seemingly had no rights at all. I was not free.
I resolved then and there to move out as soon as I could.
Which turned out to be about five years later, but still………..
My word, how I despised them and their byzantine rules. I yearned to breathe free air and not remain beleaguered in their stale and oppressive Gulag of The Mind. I was an adult dammit, and not some little kid, to be told what I can and cannot do.
Funnily enough, when I returned home many years later, I was amazed to discover how much more reasonable they had become in my absence – I felt like they had really grown……….. spiritually (h/t Samuel Clemens)
But now the wheel has turned – after a short but glorious interlude where I could tell my own children to bow to my will if they wished to live in MY house, I am now living in the home of the Progressive Millennials, and am now subject once again to these profound indignities.
Where once grotesque nincompoops lectured me about how to live my life, now Progressive Millennials are doing so. But I repeat myself.
They lecture me daily about how I should live my life – what should be banned and what should be applauded, and woe to any of us that fail to applaud as loudly as we should.
Newspapers are full of articles written by Progressive Millennial journalists, telling me that their article is “everything I need to know about x” or that “x should be banned”.
The three stages of millennial disapproval haunt my steps:
My views are “interesting”
My views are “problematic”
My views are “unacceptable”
And of course this is only fair. After all, I live under their roof.
Do I not?
Just as I once was obliged to adhere to the rules of tyrannical overlords when I lived in their home, and insisted that my children adhere to my rules if they wished to live in mine, I now cannot suddenly refuse to adhere to the rules of the Progressives, while I dwell in theirs.
Of course, if I didn’t dwell under their roof, I would be able to live my life as I please, without their insistence that they have the right to tell me how to live – just as my Progressive Millennial children once fled my tyrannical rule over THEIR lives and moved into a place of their own, where my rules held no sway and they were free – FREE AS BIRDS!
Able to live their lives as they saw fit.
I look forward to the day when I have a place of my own, and no longer live under the oppressive tyranny of Progressive Millennials.