Date: October 1st, 2021

We live in a very entitled generation.

This girl came into the diner I work at, I took her order, and then I asked the all-important question we gotta know:

"...what's your name?"

She looked at me dumbfounded. She said "We work together!"

I said "Oh?"

She goes "We had a conversation yesterday morning."

I said "Oh. Okay. What's your name?"

Annoyed, she told me. But I don't remember.

This strange entitlement that everyone has to being remembered despite doing nothing to warrant holding a memory slot in the ol' databank is baffling to me. But, it brings us to reviewing "Forgotten" by Avril Lavigne.

My God. What a song. It captures all of this teenage angst I'm constantly going through.

You are in your late 20s.

And you are a yellow symbiotic demon who doesn't really exist. Which one of us is the bigger loser?

Fuckin' idiot. Anyway.

Let's rember!

First of all: this song has a piano in it.

That means it's classical music. You're uncultured if you don't listen to Avril Lavigne. Plus the part where she goes "ah ahh ohohhhh?" Are you kidding me? This song is the core soul of all angst. I live for it. Fuck you.

I'm giving up on everything because you messed me up. Don't know how much you screwed it up. You never listened... That's just too bad.

Wait, are you talkin' to me? Bitch. The fuck did I do to you?

I don't even know you. I thought we were friends. Wtf.

Because I'm moving on. I won't forget you were the one that was wrong. I know I need to step up and be strong. Don't patronize me.

How was I wrong!? I have literaly done everything 100% right 100% of the time, and I keep it 100. Yo.

Have you forgotten everything that I wanted? Do you forget it now? You never got it. Do you get it now?

How am I supposed to know what you wanted!? I don't live in your head! What did you want!? A loving family life!? A box of money!? A year's supply of Rice-a-roni: the San Franciso Treat!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKIN' WANT YOU FUCKIN' BASTARD!?

Gotta get away. There's no point in thinking about yesterday. It's too late now, it won't ever be the same. We're so different now.

Time is an illusion, yo. You can live in the past all you want. Go on the internet archive and download pictures of your high school friends off their archived MySpace profiles and set them as your phone background. Who gives a fuck? You can do anything you want, man.

It's only 2021 if you want it to be.

The song rattles off into angst about wanting to run away, blah blah. Listen, Avril. Babycakes. You ain't gotta feel that way. You can join the revolution of humanRaCcoOn. You wanna write some game reviews or somethin'? What will it take to make you happy? Can I see you in your underwear? You're so talented. Babe. Come on, babe. Don't be like that. You ain't gotta have all this emotional angst just because your life has been a septic garbage heap. You can live in a constant state of dissociation. It's way better. Facing reality is for girls and chumps. Just like Pac-Man.

The point is: not everyone is gonna remember you. You gotta do something memorable. Something that makes people's butts twitch. Gotta put asses in seats, man. Chug Delsym and build the cultural revolution you want to see in the world. You can't just mope around like some emo shithead with your piano dings and your "ohwoah, woahaowahas." Life's too short to feel angst. Hell, life's too short to feel any emotions at all outside of happiness and pure, unfiltered rage. Sadness is for the weak. You don't gotta be a weak piece of shit. Buck up, Bart! Buck up!
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