It Was Only A Matter of Time...

So the kids are into the blogging now. Well good for them. I hope they uncover more scandals and continue to stick it to China with their Google Blogs and their Yahoo webs. I'm a huge fan of youth culture. I mean, without the YC (as those of us in the Observation Biz call it) we wouldn't have Led Zeppelin, Pop-Tarts or Twizzlers.* The Youth of the United States (TYoTUSA to those of us in the OB) has brought some important issues to the forefront of American politics and forced their elders to consider different points of view. Where would the sixties have been without the Youth Of America? (YoA to TTOUITOB). Through the youth movement we were able to eliminate all the problems of the day:
Racism.
Sexism.
Journalism.
and murder.

Even the Grateful Dead were eventually "handled." It really is the kids driving our culture. Take the security issue.  Older folks look at the country as an open buffet table and the rest of the world is camped out by the fried chicken.   They think we're being taken advantage of, overrun, invaded.  But for every adult with an "older generation" approach, there are three teenagers breaking down barriers by bringing home an upsetting sexual partner.
(Ding dong.)
MOM: Oh, Sweetie you look great. Is that Mylar?

CINDY: Come on in. Dad this is my prom date--
DAD: You're dating an illegal alien?
CINDY: Dad! Bartoop Fleven is not illegal!
ALIEN: Bleep bleep glaff florn!
D: You stay out of it, alien.
C: Don't you talk to him that way! He's my boyfriend, Dad! You hear me? And we're going out tonight in Bartoop's spaceship and we're gonna have sex!
D: Over my dead body!"

Dad did not realize that Bartoop Fleven was a psychic assassin from the Hepatar Cluster. And once he'd turned Cindy's Dad into a small piece of quivering sludge, Cindy began having second thoughts. But you don't whip up an alien like that and then just say "Sorry, I changed my mind."

So, one could say at this point, Cindy was screwed on a galactic level.

Whether it's wearing the jeans extra baggy, dying in Iraq, or cocaine, if it's good enough for the local cheerleader, it's good enough for me.
Flarp Boop Bla Blah.
Right and as soon as you get a license you'll want to vote and then we have Vanrook the All Knowing as a president. Forget it.
Groo jay fla fla.Well, if the Hepatar Cluster is so friggin' great why don't you load your little fried pie cart onto your rocket raft and fly back there?Jroo fay jla jla.
Oh yeah? Well, I've never heard of the Intergalactic Code of Conduct. Have you ever heard the sound of aluminum bat against your nasty purple face?


The Gravytrain does not endorse cocaine, Iraq, war or sex with aliens. (But if your thinking of alien coke or a sex war, we can talk.)

*Maybe.  I don't know.  If you're reading this thing to learn stuff, you may want to hit that "Next blog" button and see what happens.