Copyright The Austin Chronicle
Luv Doc, In 2018 I graduated with a degree in film and media studies from a small liberal arts college in the Midwest. At the time it seemed like the TV industry was doing well in Austin, so I moved back in with my mom to get my feet under me and start looking for work in the business. The first few years she was chill about me living with her at home. Then COVID hit and I ended up staying a lot longer. She was mostly OK with it until about two years ago when she basically forced me to get a job in a restaurant. Also, since then she has been saying that I should move out and get my own place. I am still looking for work in the industry and am barely saving any money living paycheck to paycheck. Every week she sends me emails with apartment listings and bug-eyed emojis that say “This looks like a good one!” It’s getting really annoying and not funny. She has a large house with more room than she needs. I don’t know why she keeps pressuring me to move out before I get started on my career. I don’t think she understands how tough the job market is in Austin. She just got a big bonus at work last month, so I really don’t get why she’s pressuring me to move. I appreciate everything she’s done for me, but how can I gently tell her to back off until I find work in the business? – Mom Wants Me Gone Look, I get it. I understand. You’re clearly trying to trigger me. You’re trying to goad me into a knee-jerk, Clint Eastwood, get-off-my-lawn, fist-shaking, insulting generalization about shiftless, entitled millennials and their goddamned ridiculous fucking caterpillar pornstaches, but here’s the deal: I’m on to your game. I’m not intimidated by your bespoke Midwestern liberal arts college film and media studies degree. According to a meme I saw on TikTok, I come from a generation that got locked out of the house until dinner, drank warm, weird-tasting water from a garden hose, chased DDT-spraying pesticide trucks barefoot on our bicycles, endured an unsafe number of CTE-inducing concussions from Xtreme sports, didn’t do therapy unless it was court-ordered, and believed … fervently … without a trace of irony … that we bootstrapped our way to financial solvency through hard work and determination. In other words: Generation X. And yes, the “X” stands for “Xtremely annoying” … or maybe “Xtremely delusional.” We’re arguably both of those things, but we’re unquestionably Xtremely stupid. Simmer down all you sleeve-tattooed, beer-bellied, diehard Slipknot fans who still fucking rock! If sincerity, lack of bullshit, and calling it like we see it are the hallmarks of our generation, we can’t claim we’re not fucking stupid. We need to own that shit. We are the generation that elected Donald Trump … not once, but twice. Once would be like … a thousand times too many, but twice? That’s some serious knuckle-dragging, drool-dripping imbecility, and to argue otherwise only furthers my case. And I know some of you less introspective types might be thinking, “It wasn’t us, it was those shiftless, jobless, entitled millennials!” Yeah, and guess who fucking birthed and raised those millennials? Exactly. Dumb and dumber. Now, you might be one of those self-righteous types who might be thinking, “But it wasn’t me! I didn’t vote for him!” Doesn’t fucking matter. Like your family … including uncle Skeeter the toothless, flat-earther meth addict … you don’t get to choose your generation. And by the way, I am not holding boomers guiltless, they are as well, but to employ a familiar boomer phrase, right now, I’m talking ’bout my generation. So, you may be a pretty decent busboy or dishwasher, or even waiter, but that doesn’t earn you free lodging until you’re the next Taika Waititi. Even though you’re totally nailing the millennial stereotype, I am not going to blame your situation on some sort of generational attitude. Rather, in classic Gen X style, I will assess your particular situation with as much hubristic honesty and annoying candor as I can muster. Here goes: Dude, like the family in Amityville Horror, you need to “get out.” Your incredibly patient mother has been dropping unsubtle “move out” hints for two years and you’re whining about how hard life is? Fuck me. I can’t even with you. Find some disgusting roommates and rent a shitty apartment in a terrible part of town and live like a real fucking filmmaker. Before you do that though, buy your mom some flowers and a thank-you card. This article appears in October 31 • 2025.
