The Quitugs

Pssssst

I’m getting old

We’re getting old.

We’ve graduated college and it’s time to actually be an astronaut or NBA star or Prince. Except you didn’t go to for that. There is no paisley school of funkadelic sexy jams. Paisley Park is in your heart but it’s not on your college degree.

It starts slowly. You haven’t heard from Ja Rule in awhile. Shaq retires. Tim Duncan and Kobe are next. You can’t knock ’em back like you used to. You, out of nowhere, feel like you shouldn’t even be knocking ’em back like you used to. Out of nowhere, the stars of the professional sports world are younger than you. Out of nowhere, your favorite bars play your favorite songs, and they’re considered throwbacks. 

And you can forget about quoting TV shows from your childhood around someone who you think is also in their late 20s.

Very recently, I bonded with a dude at the ol’ part time. Thought I’d throw out a little Tom Anderson impression to see if it was reciprocated.

“Boy, I feel like a three-legged cat trying to bury turds on a frozen pond out there today.”

Nothing. Suddenly, I’m the weird guy trying to show how young and hip I am, and looking like a total freak in the process. Suddenly, I’m asking if he has a Myspace.

But being at that annoying age where you’re young and reflective but still genuinely aware of how ridiculous you are leads me to this: shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP.

Kyrie Irving will retire. The undercut will grow out. The beards…will probably stick around. Rae Sremmurd won’t, however. But they will have learned to spell their name forwards. Young Thug will one day be Old Thug. And then today’s college age kids will comment on future YouTube, which will  be displayed on visualized digital particles in the air, about how they just don’t make music like they used to. And that’ll be hilarious.

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