Among the many shit-storms erupting last week, my favorite has to be the one caused by Joel Stein's Time Magazine cover story on the Millennials (previously Generation Y) - where he goes on to call an entire generation lazy, narcissitic, stunted, etc. Essentially, he did to the new, up and coming generation what previous generations have done to younger generations time and time again.
Well, more specifically, it's what Baby Boomers have been doing to other generations ever since the Greatest Generation pointed out their narcissistic qualities.
The thing I really feel bad about, however, is that the guy who is shitting all over the Millennials is a member of my generation, Generation X. We know better, having spent our entire lives in the shadow of the most narcissitic generation in history, the Baby Boomers. A generation that prides itself on "getting us out of a war" (Vietnam) only to send following generations into bogus and unnecessary wars. A generation that fully takes advantage of social programs like Social Security while telling younger generations they need to get used to the idea of not having those types of programs. A generation that... well, I could go on all day about Baby Boomers, but this isn't about them (no matter how much they like to believe everything is about them).
Stein's argument seems to both confuse the narcissism of youth with the narcissism of a generation and blame the Millennials for the technology they grew up with - just imagine what Boomers would be like if they grew up with access to smart phones, the internet, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, etc.
So on behalf of Generation X, I'd like to apologize to the Millennials for the dumbassery of the Time Magazine-sanctioned Joel Stein. We're not all like him, really. And don't take it too seriously. Being slandered in Time is a generational rite of passage. And in a few years, they'll do another cover article about you, taking it all back, saying that maybe they were wrong about the kids and they're not so bad after all (most likely after your generation takes over the editorial staff, that's what we did).
Also, just be happy that they've now stopped calling you "Generation Y." It was way too derivitave of my generation.
But reading Stein's article and a lot of the responses to it, I was reminded of a series of articles I wrote for my college newspaper, The Salisbury Flyer, about 20 years ago (actually, it might be exactly 20 years go this month).
This was before the Generation X name had been permanently affixed to my generation. There was a lot of talk in the media about what to call us, but no one was really asking us - it wasn't put up to a vote - it was more like the media was crowd-testing brand names to see which was the most marketable, and I thought that perhaps we should have some say in what those of us born between 1960-1980 were called.
So I present those articles here, just for posterity (and well-deserved mockery).
Note: The articles appeared over serveral weeks in the campus newspaper. They intitially received little response while they were running but resulted in a fair amount of hate mail (which I, unfortantely, neglected to save) after I finished the series. They have been edited from their original format to form a more cohesive whole (and updated where it made sense, with a few corrections and a few minor editorial changes that I couldn't resist making).
AQUARIUS: Better not tell you now. PISCES: It is certain. ARIES: Reply hazy, try again. TAURUS: Outlook not so good. GEMINI: Ask again later. CANCER: Concentrate and ask again. LEO: Without a doubt. VIRGO: Outlook good. LIBRA: Concentrate and ask again. SCORPIO: As I see it, yes. SAGITTARIUS: Ask again later. CAPRICORN: Concentrate and ask again.
We think these photos sum up nicely the absurdity of city wasting resources to bust up the 26th Annual Powwow in the park behind the lovely Port Covington Wal-Mart.
You'd think they were expecting a riot.
Instead, they got... Thanks, Baltimore. We're much safer as a city now.
Director of Programming Eric Allen Hatch’s Maryland Film Fest 2013 “Insider Picks”
Each year Maryland Film Festival rolls out roughly 50 feature films and 75 short films. As MFF’s director of programming, I love them all (and I really do!). But as a civilian who happens to have an inside track on what’s screening, I also love having a forum here in the Shank (thanks, Benn!) where I can give a wink and a nudge about films I’d be particularly psyched about as a festivalgoer.
A baker’s dozen is thirteen, right? Here’s a baker’s dozen films that are screening within MFF 2013—thirteen titles that I love, and that I also think will specifically grab Shank readers:
12 O’CLOCK BOYS I don’t need to recommend this film, probably. The tickets are selling like hotcakes. It’s the most anticipated work on Baltimore street culture since The Wire. It also happens to be very, very good, and contains some of the most exhilarating shots of our city ever captured by a camera. Experience it here and now, before the rest of the world does.
BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO I know there are a few people reading this who either A. fetishize analog recording equipment and/or B. are obsessed with Dario Argento, Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci, and the like. If so, THIS IS THE MOVIE FOR YOU. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT NOT SEEING THIS FILM. For the rest of you: it’s an atmospheric head-trip about a nebbishy sound designer working on a '70s Italian horror movie, with a soundtrack by Broadcast.
BRING ME THE HEAD OF WTF SHORTS The WTF Shorts program has become a signature event for our festival, and if I were going to recommend one (of our 10) shorts programs to Shank readers, it would be this one. This is where we place the year’s most fucked up, uncategorizable, insane short films. #Postmodem, The Apocalypse, and Alan Resnick’s tutorials are particularly and emphatically what-the-fucky.
COMPUTER CHESS If Robert Altman in his prime had shot an ensemble comedy about computer-chess nerds on a bank security camera, the result might be something like this endlessly inventive film. Wiley Wiggins (Dazed and Confused, Waking Life) stars, and will be in town to host our screenings. No chess knowledge needed to enjoy! One of the most original films I’ve seen in the last year! I have seen over 1,000 in movies in the last year!
DOWNLOADED A smart, incisive documentary about the rise and fall of Napster, giving The Social Network a run for its money in telling a thrilling story about an internet innovation that all too quickly takes on a global life of its own. Expertly directed by Alex Winter—yes, Bill S. Preston Esq. of Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Lost Boys fame, not to mention the co-creator of the cult classic Freaked—who will be here to host our screenings.
HERE COMES THE DEVIL A diabolical Mexican horror film that channels both Picnic at Hanging Rock and Village of the Damned in the service of something brand new. Subtle at first, and then… well, it’s one of the goriest and most deranged films we’ve shown at the festival.
I AM DIVINE The definitive documentary about Divine! Made with the full participation of John Waters, Divine’s mom, and the surviving Dreamlanders! Run, don’t walk!
IF FELT LIKE LOVE Do you like Catherine Breillat (Fat Girl, Romance)? This is by far the closest thing I’ve seen to an American director channeling that raw, unnervingly honest look at young female sexuality that she does so well. An important movie that people will be talking about for a long time!
MUSEUM HOURS Jem Cohen, perhaps best known for the Fugazi film Instrument, delivers a gentle, patient character study about a senior-aged Austrian museum guard. If this sounds like something you would like: you are correct!
PARADISE: LOVE Ulrich Seidl (of the devastating Import/Export) is back with his Paradise trilogy, each telling the story of a different member of a suburban Austrian family as they misbehave over their summer vacation. We’re screening all three, but each one can be enjoyed as a separate story, and this is my favorite. A middle-aged Austrian woman engages in sexual tourism in Kenya—disturbing subject matter handled almost as a Happiness-era Todd Solondz would’ve, with plenty of laughter intermingled with the bitter, awkward tears.
POST TENEBRAS LUX If Andrei Tarkovsky were alive, Mexican, and under the age of 40, he would’ve made this art film “about” a family torn apart by class differences and animal cruelty. And if you go to the movies to be challenged, and are prepared to see a movie that you will either hate, love, or (most likely outcome) hate and then come to love: well, Post Tenebras Lux!
THE RAMBLER Now that David Lynch has all but stopped making movies in favor of Transcendental Meditation fundraisers with Paul and Ringo, Calvin Reeder makes the world’s best new David Lynch films (with a little bit of Repo Man tossed into the mix). The Rambler gets even closer to the lysergic energy of Reeder’s incredible 16mm short films than did his prior feature The Oregonian, and Dermot Mulroney gets major props for attaching himself to a film this unrelentingly deranged.
What else? Well, this is a watershed year for film in Baltimore, and in addition to those MD-centric movies mentioned above, we have an unprecedented cornucopia of other awesome Maryland-made features that hold their own with our international offerings, including: -- Joe Tropea and Skizz Cyzyk’s Catonsville 9 documentary Hit & Stay --Matt Bowden and Joe Compton’s New Orleans gospel documentary By and By --Matt Porterfield’s Sundance-premiered, Mike Leigh-tinged I Used to Be Darker --Zach Clark’s holiday-themed, John Waters-influenced White Reindeer --and the omnibus horror film V/H/S/2, boasting a Frederick-made segment from Blair Witch Project’s Ed Sanchez.
We also have Alloy Orchestra (featuring Mission of Burma’s Roger Miller!) presenting 1925 silent classic The Lost World, John Waters presenting the naughtiest film in Ulrich Seidl’s Paradise trilogy, Paradise: Faith; an incredibly rigorous and surprisingly amusing documentary about rebuilding Ground Zero from the editor of Capturing the Friedmans called 16 Acres; the latest from David Gordon Green, the Paul Rudd-starring buddy movie Prince Avalanche; an exquisitely morose Turkish art-house film, Watchtower; Sophie Fiennes’ Žižek sequel, The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology; extremely strong Sundance dramas Pit Stop, This Is Martin Bonner, and A Teacher; and Bobcat Goldthwait’s found-footage Bigfoot extravaganza, Willow Creek (yes, he’ll be here)!
Whew! It’ll all be awesome, but there’s a cheat sheet of sorts for you. Feel free to tweet some questions to me at @ericallenhatch if you care to, or comment here, and either way I’ll do my best to get back to you. Thanks for reading!
Lest Baltimore's Powwow Festivalgoers think they are unique in the surprising police crackdown of some springtime merriment, on Saturday in my old college town of Salisbury, in my old college neighborhood of Smith (St.) and Hazel (Ave.) police arrived because they claim 500 - 700 people had gathered to drink and have a party.
The cops then began pepperspraying college students, claiming someone threw rocks and bottles at them.
I think I can see the Haus O' Losers and almost The Way-Out Haus from this shot. Right around the corner was the Hippie Haus, Haus O' Rok and my house, Haus O' Sweet Pain. (Back in the late '80s/early '90s, we called all the houses that our friends lived in Haus).
Cops busting up parties and pepperspraying students while drug dealers sling rock on corners just serveral blocks been a Smith/Hazel tradition for years.
This year marked the 26th Annual Powwow at Ferry Bar Park over behind the scenic Port Covington Wal-Mart.
For years this festival stood as a regional rite of spring (like Sowebo Festival) as the nexus of Baltimore's hippie meets alternative culture gathered along a beach often strewn with medical waste (I shit you not, in '94 or '95 my girlfriend at the time went to sit down on the beach, screamed, pulled up her hand and it had a syringe sticking out of it that looked like it washed ashore from the hospital across the water), to contract poison ivy as you piss in the woods while yahoos in boats cruised the beach line to watch the ladies squat, drink cans of Natty Boh and buy cheap balloons filled with nitrous while bands with an insufficient sound system made a racket.
Unfortunately, the 26th Annual Powwow was busted up by Baltimore's finest because, evidently, there are no more violent crimes to investigate or open-air drug markets to shut down.
(click on strip to see larger version) Look for a new Said What? comic in Wednesday's B: The Paper. Available free around town. You can also follow this strip and others at MutantFunnies.com. ---------------------------------------------------- Overhear
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