There was a time when boys grew up riding in the back of pickups, drinking from garden hoses, and getting their first Copenhagen buzz behind the woodshed. By 12, they could drive a stick shift, split firewood, and identify a Chevy by the sound of its exhaust.
Now we’ve got 23-year-old men wearing pajama pants to Walmart, carrying $40 water bottles, and asking their mothers to schedule their dentist appointments.
The Gen X boy wore Romeos, a hickory shirt, Levi’s, and had a Copenhagen ring worn into his back pocket. His Gen Z counterpart wears Crocs, sweatpants, and a haircut that looks like somebody dumped a bowl of ramen on his head.
Friday nights used to involve cruising town, bonfires, warm beer, and occasionally running from somebody’s father. Now Junior sits in his bedroom watching another grown man play video games while yelling into a headset that costs more than his first car. Assuming he ever buys one.
Dating wasn’t much easier back then. You had to call a girl’s house, get past her father, and actually form complete sentences. Today, a young man sends a picture of his forehead with “wyd” underneath and wonders why he’s still single.
Gen X got their first job bucking hay for $20 and a warm Pepsi. Gen Z wants $25 an hour, weekends off, and a chair behind the register. Ask him to work Saturday and he’ll need to discuss boundaries with his therapist.
The old boys could fix a pickup with baling wire, change a tire in the rain, and survive three days in the woods with a pocketknife. Their sons can identify 400 Pokémon but couldn’t identify a carburetor if you dropped one on their foot.
Gen X survived lawn darts, lead paint, secondhand smoke, and motorcycles without helmets. Gen Z can’t survive a dead phone battery.
Of course, there’s one uncomfortable little detail nobody wants to discuss.
Gen X raised these little bastards.
Disclaimer: Satire. If you’re Gen Z and offended, please have your mother email us. If you’re Gen X and offended, go outside and finish that project you’ve been putting off since 1997.
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