Progress

Word to the whiny, petulant, cynical freaks who think that Progress is some illusory b.s. proposed by the EEEvil Corporate Masters:

Shut the fuck up and get a job.

I'm 34 today. My family is notably long-lived, but if I were living when my grandfather were the age I am now, I'd be truly ready for my mid-life crisis, because life expectancy for men hadn't managed to break the seventy mark, and anything past that was considered an outright Gift from God and the official mark of a Lucky Bastard.

Now there are folks out there who are concerned that Roberts, up for nomination to the Supreme Court, might, at fifty-something, be too young for the job.

What about if I were in my father's generation or just after? You think we have environmental problems now? How about an entire generation growing up not only breathing smog, but smog that was heavily-laced with lead fumes!! (Does that explain why Baby Boomers actually watched the Partridge Family?) That's right, Virginia, just in case you're too young to remember it, gasoline used to laced with lead, and only when I was a kid did you get to choose, based on your car, between leaded and unleaded...

So let's lay off the whiny, useful-idiot soviet agitprop, and spend some time actually employed, instead of cursing those who create, and those who do, simply because you're too lazy to get off your ass and pull down a paycheck.

Because if you keep mewling like that, I just might have to break your nose sometime in 2083.