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The respectable pundits of our great Republic continue
to assure us that the Clinton-Gore inauguration Wednesday
represents a profound generational shift
as Baby
Boomers take the torch from World War II veterans.
In many respects, Bill Clinton does embody the ideals of many in his generation. Just like another fellow of about the same age, Dan Quayle, Clinton dodged the Vietnam draft, went to law school, and found a remunerative career in comfortable, air-conditioned offices.
When I was an idealistic youth, those were my goals, too. Although I failed at all three, I'm not really jealous or spiteful. It's just that the Boomer credentials of the Clinton-Gore ticket seem suspect in other regards:
· A campaign swing in a luxurious Greyhound
cruiser? A true Boomer would board a wheezing 1958 VW
microbus, or maybe an old schoolbus painted in paisley
swirls with the message: Don't laugh. Your daughter may
be in here.
· Washington hotels jammed for Inauguration Day?
A real Boomer would tell everyone to just camp on the Mall,
and arrange for the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane to
perform. When it came time for the parade after the
swearing-in ceremony, the Boomer would carry a banner and
shout that they were marching to occupy the President's
office.
· Didn't inhale? Maybe, but a valid Boomer
explanation would be more detailed: Like, man, I'd just
eaten some peach doubledomes, or maybe it was orange
sunshine, and I was, like, ripped to the gills. It was
coming on like a freight train. Then this dude offers me a
hooter, tells me not to bogart it. Got ready to take a big
hit, then I look up, and he's got, like, six swirling heads
in all different colors -- neon purple, slime green,
day-glow orange -- man, I just freaked. Lost it totally.
Couldn't even catch my breath.
· If there were a social gathering at the White House, and if flashing lights and sirens appeared nearby, proper Boomer etiquette means everyone would run for the back windows or the restrooms.
· Fashion followers would be dismayed when Hillary's inauguration outfit consisted of a tank top, bell-bottom jeans, and love beads.
· Tipper Gore would have been passed around a
smudged sheet of notebook paper with the real
lyrics
to Louie, Louie.
· Keith Richards would be invited to the White House. A spokesman would point out what a great role model he is for youth -- a working-class boy who once dreamed of playing music so he could have unlimited money, sex and drugs, and who steadfastly pursued that ambition despite all manner of adversity.
Since none of this has happened or even seems probable,
I'm already disappointed in this Boomer presidency. But as
Marilyn Quayle, another Baby Boomer, said last summer:
Not everyone joined the counterculture, not everyone
demonstrated, dropped out, took drugs, joined in the sexual
revolution, or dodged the draft.
Give her credit for so clearly identifying the problem. Aside from idealistic hippies, the Boomer product line also includes ultra-conformist dress-for-success yuppies, authoritarian health fascists, parents too hedonistic to care for their own children, sleazy New Age opportunists and a host of other public nuisances.
In other words, we Baby Boomers are pretty much like every other American generation, and the respectable pundits should find something important to write about.
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