A. BOOMER | MAD AS HELL

I’ll start with assuring you that in my youth, I was the ill-est guy on the block. I was a young chap double minoring in philosophy and religion at the University of Toronto. My professors stoked a flame in my heart, one that yearned for justice and for saying whatever the hell was on my mind.

Picture it kid, Toronto, 1968. We were on the steps of Simcoe Hall—banners in hand—protesting the unrelenting war in Vietnam. Our bell bottoms reached so low every other step we’d trip and hit our heads on the pavement.

Back then when Yorkville was all hippies and not Eataly and Holt Renfrew, we didn’t know what we were fighting for, only that it mattered and that it was for the good of the people and the benefit of those who had nothing else to do with their days.

I’d go to any protest I heard about, against Vietnam, for Vietnam, against LBJ, for LBJ. There was one I went to in July of ‘68 where all we did was walk in a circle and sing Beatles songs. Halfway through we realized we didn’t know what we were protesting so we dropped acid and fucked.

Not like today. Protesting nowadays is all about gender and race. Protesting back then was all about jeans with flowers on them and having smelly sex with multiple partners—free love and all that.

The main problem is the kids nowadays don’t have it in them, they aren’t like us, we were cool and smoked weed when it was illegal, Woodstock, the Cold War, etc.

One time in August of ‘69 there was a fella at a protest that was not jiving with my vibe. We got into a little pushin’ and shovin’ instead of what we were protesting for—which was kissin’ and lovin’. Anyways I killed that man with my bare hands and buried his body where nobody could ever find it.

We were raised tougher back then I guess. For breakfast, we ate cereal with real men on the box and a prize at the bottom that would kill you if you ate it.

The woke little fuckers now with their iPods and their gameboy machines, watching Riverdale on Tubi and eating GMO-flavoured Oreo Cakesters have tarnished the spirit of protest that my people started. Those little punks wouldn’t know a real picket sign if it came out of their Instachat screens and slapped them on their septum piercings so hard they had to call their moms for the fourth time in the day.

I think the point is nowadays ain’t like thenadays and whenadays come where nowadays go back to howadays used to be, this town’ll get a whole hell of a lot smarter and whole fuck of a lot less yuppie. But that’s just my two cents and you can take that all the way to the bank and cash it.

Boomer currently runs a self-funded freeform podcast on Truth Social focused on defrauding critical race theory.