I think the divide between the generations has never been greater in history. Peasant farmer used to pass on their peasant farm to peasant farm son. Merchant to merchant son. King to prince. Calamity might strike a household, a city, a region, but all paid such a price. As technology and economies have accelerated, so too has the divide. First and foremost this is an issue of wealth distribution. A topic which I find myself woefully ignorant. I can say I am not a commie, but these days I find it harder and harder to call myself a true capitalist. The rich have been getting disproportionally richer. Wealth is being concentrated into the hands of fewer and fewer, as those with means take and do relinquish nothing. A natural progression. Understandable. Let the biggest lizards bask on the tallest flattest rock. There are market pressures and societal forces available to deal with such disparities. Though I worry they may rig the game evermore in their favor. In this uneducated essay I hope to touch not on that problem, but rather on a more cultural difference between young and old of any class.

The old bastards are hoarding all their gold.

They own the houses. And when they die why would the inheritors not sell to the highest corporate bidder, instead of the single mother in need of a suburban home? They own the social safety nets. And why would they vote (in their fever and mass) to lessen (or enlarge, whichever would help I forget) the social security benefits, when they currently suck at its teat? And can do so until the grave before we reach 40 and really start to pout?

I consider not ever retiring. I would be a fool to think I would ever see a penny of social security. I worry over the environment and weather or not my food and clothes and everything is sustainable. So that my children might get a chance to take a hike without a smog mask. And I notice, among my older peers a complete difference of thought. I believe this cultural/generational divide has many faces but the foremost example in my mind, met every day and every where is this:

They can’t help their greedy wet fingers and always, without fail, regardless of size or quality provided, go for a second hand towel in the bathroom. Every time. Instinctively they grab at it. They stand, dripping, and wave at the wall dispensor, one perfectly adequate towel in hand already! waiting for it to spit out their totally unnecessary second paper towel.

I admit a favor for the towel over the hand air dryer. Damn me for that. Yet at least the thought crosses my mind. And I make an effort to choose green. Or whatever the hell.
Just take one! You old coots grab two, and throw a mostly dry paper away! The pomp. The arrogance. The superstition. The entitlement. The lack of consideration. The failure of judgement. The needlessness. The no-big-deal-ness. The unthinking nature of it. The greed. The damn it all I’m gonna get what’s mine.

I know that when their wretched soul ascends to heaven and judgement lays at their feet. And their worried sinner’s heart pales to think on their lifetime instances of adultery, murders, lies, violence, theft, whatever they’ve done. I hope God just shows them the pile of half used paper towels they threw to the wayside every time their withered prostates allowed their waste to pass from their crusty pedophilic peckers. And they are shipped, without mercy, to an earned Hell.