Fuck Millennials (Blizzard Edition)

Ever had a day where an opinion of yours becomes burned into you as a core value?

Today was that day for me and Millennial kids.

The snow has been barreling down on poor ol’ Niagara for days now. On my parent’s property alone we have half a dozen mounds chest high of shoveled snow. On the lawn, its at least knee deep. This morning the plows went by at least four times to clear the ever falling flakes..

Speaking of flakes…

I started shoveling around 7:30. My dad came out to help about 15 minutes later. With nothing but our muscles and plastic shovels, we dug. We even helped out a neighbor who decided that driving her car through the snow was a good idea. More muscle got her car out. By 8:30 we drove to my grandparents’ place and dug them out from 3 days worth of snowfall. They now have a large snow wall to protect them from any barbarian hordes that attempt to cross their driveway. At 9:30, my father, my grandparents and I went out for breakfast.

Driving by over 100 houses to get from house to house to breakfast, I saw ONE kid in all that time clearing out a driveway and he was using a snow blower. Everywhere else it was adults. Adults from households where I know they have a kid of an age where they should be out there. I don’t live in an elderly neighborhood. There are enough kids in my area to fill a school.

I’m 27 years old. Where the fuck is your little bastard? I don’t care if he’s got homework, friends, video games or he’s a cripple. Get his (or her) ass out into the cold and make them shovel. Shovel. Not snow blow so all they have to do is push a self propelled machine. Fuck up their backs. Get those weak arms to do something. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care how much they whine. I don’t care if its the weekend. I don’t care if your ex will give you an earful for putting the hellspawn to work. Give the fucker some gloves, a stern stare and don’t let him in until its done.

I’m going to tell my therapist you made me do hard work.

I’m an 90s kid and that how it was for me. I was shoveling, alone, at 10 when my dad was off on business. Even until I moved away at 21, the women didn’t lift a finger if I was around. I hated it, but I did it. And today, adult size, I do it because it needs to be done. I may bitch for fun, but I don’t mind it. Its a great workout.

Fuck your kids feelings and fuck yours. Buck up and go do some man things, you fucking pussies.

Crack the Skye


It rained last night. The wind knocked out the power at the site. The lights didn’t want to come back on.

Today, its was snowing and tossing hail the size of baby spit. The wipers worked overtime.

I held my held up during the dark times. The fluctuating stability between wanting to function and needing to.

I know what I am. I know Hell is temporary. I know it’ll be over soon.

I know this because it is true. I wish it wasn’t true.

Step by step I walk away, but I can still feel her and hear her. I can see her self-interest explode my world.

And there’s not much I can do. And she wonders why I’m “hateful.”

There’s only so much the male psyche can take before it cracks. Before the traces of the past are annihilated and fused into a new personality.

Minute by minute, action by action, this is the case.

The fabulous disaster is beyond my control. I am only as strong as my society. And my society is weak.

Piece by piece, man by man, it will reap the crop it sowed into us. The pathetic men, their molds broken and left in the gutters, blowing down city streets past the lost forms of those left behind. The “independent” women. The children of single mothers. The betas. The omegas. The lost and the purposely confused.

The hard part of change is changing. The easy part is living.