Like 8mm so succinctly points out, we raised ourselves and were largely left to our own devices as our Latter Day Silent Gen and Early Tiered Boomer Me Gen parental units bought The Lie and narcissistically divorced and split nuclear family units asunder, en masse. That was the true fission Cold War Kids of X experienced. However, the unintended fall out was that glorious fun was had by all. The music was real and brilliant and ballsy and unquantized and unauto-tuned and varied and was largely dictated by your chosen tribe. We enjoyed the freedom of BMX banditry and minibike rapscallionry, wrapped in the cloak of anonymity against the all seeing prying societal camera eyes that were to come. Malls were still a viable social scene. The forced race mixing was still in the early stages and lines of delineation and separation were understood, although the seeds of the Heeb created and managed Darkie Boom Box-n-Cardboard Culcha' were being sewn. The World of American 80s youth was of our own making and everything in it was ours for the taking. As expected, missteps and stumbles were made and Just Say No institutionalized retributions were paid. We were little hoes and life experienced way too early. That being said, we did happen to catch the tail end of the party before the flood lights kicked on. We rode the wave of that manufactured collective sigh of relief at the demise of the cold war right into the young adulthood of the 90s dessert and played our parts in the teaser trailer opening act of the next era being scripted to further ratchet down control and keep everyone on edge and bunged up and the profits flowing and freedoms dwindling.
Like 8mm so succinctly points out, we raised ourselves and were largely left to our own devices as our Latter Day Silent Gen and Early Tiered Boomer Me Gen parental units bought The Lie and narcissistically divorced and split nuclear family units asunder, en masse. That was the true fission Cold War Kids of X experienced. However, the unintended fall out was that glorious fun was had by all. The music was real and brilliant and ballsy and unquantized and unauto-tuned and varied and was largely dictated by your chosen tribe. We enjoyed the freedom of BMX banditry and minibike rapscallionry, wrapped in the cloak of anonymity against the all seeing prying societal camera eyes that were to come. Malls were still a viable social scene. The forced race mixing was still in the early stages and lines of delineation and separation were understood, although the seeds of the Heeb created and managed Darkie Boom Box-n-Cardboard Culcha' were being sewn. The World of American 80s youth was of our own making and everything in it was ours for the taking. As expected, missteps and stumbles were made and Just Say No institutionalized retributions were paid. We were little hoes and life experienced way too early. That being said, we did happen to catch the tail end of the party before the flood lights kicked on. We rode the wave of that manufactured collective sigh of relief at the demise of the cold war right into the young adulthood of the 90s dessert and played our parts in the teaser trailer opening act of the next era being scripted to further ratchet down control and keep everyone on edge and bunged up and the profits flowing and freedoms dwindling.
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