Owning the title

I often get befuddled looks when I am asked what I do for a living. For using the exact terminology makes those not in “the business” of advertising often confuse copywriter with copyright.

Sending them into grand visions of me burning © onto the later part of a logo, with a crazed look in my eye, like a ranch hand who has been snorting the horse tranquilisers.

I is so wasted...I can't feel your legs.

Of course they are not far off the mark. Usually my area of expertise lies just under the circled c in the form of magnificent bullshit. The crazed look remains however just to confuse my client’s into thinking there is still passion behind the facade, though mostly it is just general confusion mixed with contempt for shooting down your 7th precariously thought out concept.
It is in the spirit of transparency that I usually therefore answer the question of my undertaking, by stating that I bullshit for a living.

My cow goes BOOOO!

Although this self scathing joke does produce a chuckle from those trying to be kind, it too does not fall far from the mark.

It was when I was contemplating why I seemed to disvalue my chosen profession that I realised my subconscious was indeed verbalising itself quite openly.

I, being a retired, self proclaimed, deep thought practitioner, donned my magnificent cape of ineptitude, boots of personal maw insertion and LvL 34 dwarven armour of tongue lashing wit and immediately set to work, overcomplicating my subconscious’ scarce moments of honesty.

Unfortunately I left my garter belt of linear reasoning at your mom’s place over the weekend.

Still boldly on I push into the obscurity that is my reasoning. If you are ever looking for my reasoning you will probably find it perched precariously over my general disgust. Hanging on by its tiny little claws like an angry flock of kittens to a 10:1 scale model of a tribble.



*I believe that my limited respect for my toil comes from the distinct lack of sweat on my brow, along with the feeling that somewhere, someone else, is doing something of great importance.

Worst yet that if I were to spring into action, I fear I may be too late. Missing the main event by a couple of decades ,like an attempt to win 2006’s amazing race tomorrow without ever being invited to the show.

This I believe may be a feeling that most of my generation may feel akin too. Let me explain.

I have long struggled to find the right word for the state of mind of our generation. The generations, before mine, seemed to have little trouble finding a defining term to describe the age in which they lived.

The swinging 60’s for obvious hippie induced reason. The roaring 40’s, the golden age of modern times where the word wholesome carried some weight. The dark ages, not the best of times but descriptive none the less.

Grrrrrrr. You can be my dinosaur.

Individual groups also seemed to be able to define themselves clearly, hippies, yuppies, baby boomers. A kinship with their respective eras and conviction.

We have given up on being creative and have hit up the alphabet as a muse, generation X,Y,Z. Roman numerals or Morse code is surely next.

We have emos, hipsters and scene (which I do not believe has a plural) the intermingled, inbred bastard offspring of cultural groups that were already watered down when they emerged.

Scenes .If only it was a singular problem.

People trying to define themselves and provide purpose to their lives by creating social groups, bound together by referencing obscure pop culture phenomenon. Yes Twilighters, Trekkies and Bluecatpeople enthusiast out there are coming together in droves. Online and sadly in the real world too.

"This picture made my balls cry" - SSB

Today’s offices, filled with job titles that would be completely irrelevant when stranded on a desert island. I would very much like to see you shoe your horse with clever marketing jargon, brainstorm yourself a hut or synergise the catch of the day.

With our powers combined. FISH!

We have explored the planet’s surface, driven to the poles, climbed the highest mountains – build resorts on them – swam the deepest sea – build a resort under it. Those of us who have a genetic inclination to exploration have been reduced to guided tours, phrasebooks and /b/ to explore new and strange cultures and “discover” the world.

Seriously, that IS a hotel under the ocean...

Real, meaningful jobs that contribute to society in a positive way are dying out. Blacksmiths use to make horseshoes because they were needed at the time, potters made pots, soldiers made war all of them as much as was needed. Supply and demand ruled as it does today, accept now we make the demand by controlling the supply. Ask Steve jobs why white I-phone4’s will only be coming out next year.

No caption needed.

But I digress. Our generation has it better than any before, we have the worlds knowledge at our fingertips, instant gratification for everything from hunger to sex.
Thank you MacDonald’s and Eastern Europe.

McHottie?

Yet our generation is confused about where we stand when asked to define ourselves because we do not want to admit that we have nothing new to talk about, nothing new to explore, no great needs, no great challenges.

In short we have been handed a life of leisure on a silver Xbox and are mostly driven by accumulating more stuff than the Joneses, that we buy things that we don’t need but want because the marketing jargon spewing spin doctors have us sucking on the teat of consumerism.

This problem of not having any real problems, compared to say, the slums of New Delhi, is a very generationally bound issue. Not because there were never elitists just that stuff is cheaper and we have ALL of it.

You disagree? What's your BB pin again? BAM! Lawyered!

The definition that seems to elude this generation is actually very simple. Our lifestyle has led us to become dulled, satiated by overindulgence. Our sense of self worth worn out and wearied. Our spirit dissipated.

We are without a doubt a vast legion of the most JADED people ever to have walked on the crust of this giant spinning roundabout of DOOOOM!

Time to start owning up to it ladies and gentleman.

Welcome to the JADE-Generation©

Exactly like this. But with none of the inner peace.

*Disclaimer: At this point let me make it clear that for the purposes of this following debate I am almost exclusively focusing on middle class individuals, who were born in the time of the digital revolution.

Any 3rd world countries or war torn regions I am about to sound like an arrogant and blissfully ignorant, posh little twat. For that I apologise. This debate will make you want to slap me with a frozen tuna, rather eat the tuna, you are in a war zone and sashimi is delicious.