I remember just driving around in the backseat of mom’s minivan, and it could’ve been 92.3 KROCJ, or 100.3 Z100, or 97.5 PST, Peaches by Presidents of the United States of America was just a popular alt rock tune, sandwiched in between Third Eye Blind and the Gin Blossoms.
Thanks for giving me an answer to my question of which millennial would know the correct answer, cause I had y’all pegged at knowing who “The Presidents of the United States of America” were.
So how old is an old millennial, anyhow? I kinda thought that’s where I was, but this song was/is my jam.
Apparently they all know the lyrics of Peaches way better than just Millions of peaches, peaches for me. Millions of peaches, peaches for free. Followed by ninja noises lol.
If you’re near the cusp, pick whichever makes you feel better. Generations are a sociological construct and are appropriately applied in the aggregate, not to individuals and they’re always fuzzy around the edges. Much like Hari Seldon can’t predict specific individual events, sociological generations don’t always apply exactly the same to individual people.
If you’re born anywhere between around 1978 and 1984, you will likely find at least one sociologist who draws the line on either side of you.
I tend to go with Strauss-Howe, who consider GenX to be 1961-1981 and Millennials to be 1982-2005 – mostly because I like their idea of turnings and cyclical archetypes.
Theres 5 strings between the guitar and bass and it’s still a masterpiece. So much sound for such a minimalist approach to their instruments. Kitty is a supreme banger.
Just as I’m thinking about repairing it some little friends come along with some 2 string, 1 string, no string guitars and they plug em all in to the back porch
The generational boundaries are somewhat arbitrary. They were put there by a man who just happened to be the guy who got that particular assignment. In a factory downtown that produces nothing but information for immediate consumption, I’m sure the generational gaps can seem more severe.
If I had my little way, I’d want people to understand it was much more of a spectrum (it still is); we lived in roughly the same world as the kids five grades above us had lived in at our age. I’d eat peaches every day in the lunchroom and didn’t have to defend them because I was sitting with kids two grades above me. And when I met alums from the school who had graduated they seemed like full-on adults, but they were the same culture as me. Didn’t seem like a different generation.
I lived in the country in the 90s, going to a little school. I ran track, and I remember sitting around with the girls waiting for various events, just sun soaking, or sitting on root bulges in the shade, lazing around. No cell phones, forced to socialize though I was terrified of it.
Growing up was roughly the same for us as the kids 5 years ahead of us. Except we were The Class of 2000, and had been raised to subtly believe we were the pioneers of a new civilization based on avoiding endlessly-growing-landfill apocalypse and acid rain.
I think this is especially true the older you get, but my experience was vastly different to my husband’s who was born 4 years before me, and somewhat significantly different from my brother’s 3 years behind. Part of the gap between my husband and I has to do with the large age difference in our parents, but the biggest difference is how quickly technology was changing in our formative years in the early 2000s. I am the youngest of the millennials, my brother is firmly gen Z (though only born the first or second year of them) and my husband is firmly a millennial
I didn’t recognize it from the image (description of “shriek singing” also had me imagining something totally different) but immediately recognized the song 2 seconds after it started playing. Guess that makes me dead middle millennial
If they mow and maintain it, its their lawn. If I mow it and maintain it, its my lawn.
The yard will be returned to you in as good if not better than the condition it was in when I signed the lease. Beyond that, if you want a say you come do the mowing.
Don’t worry, you can get a big wagon, buy tons of ammo and then fill that wagon with just hunted meat (you may never see Oregon, or probably the equivalent of Ohio either).
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