Well, the Boomers are ready to take the country back, putting their arthritic — excuse me, “overworked” — fingers around the levers of national power again. Donald Trump was born in 1946. Hillary Clinton was born just a year later. Trump was discipled by Roy Cohn, a veteran of the McCarthy investigations. Clinton was a young Goldwater girl turned Wesleyan radical. The 2016 campaign is like the final chapter in the Boomer generation’s tragic story.
The Clintonite half of the race represents the Baby Boomer generation’s brittle, screechy self-righteousness, born out of exaggerated struggles, and soothed by corrupt money-grabs. Then there’s the Trumpian half: born rich, yet afflicted with grandiose self-importance and paranoia, and possessed of a consciously exercised offensiveness that is normally pardoned as senility.
Shock and surprise, each candidate is the most wildly unpopular nominee their party has picked in many decades.
Being a Gen X-er, it’s my lot in life to blow with the whims of the prevailing Boomer or Millennial wind. I’m finding myself philosophical in the face of the storm.
What else can one do in such times? Board up the windows and hope for the best.
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