The blog isn’t dead. It’s just hiding. Beat up, ghosted by the algorithm, and waiting for someone to want something real again.
Blogs are Dead; Long Live the Blog
We Were Right to Side-Eye Everything: The Gen X Origin of Cynicism
Gen X wasn’t born cynical. We were built that way. One betrayal at a time. The job, the war, the dad on TV. Cosby didn’t break us. He confirmed what we already knew.
A Toast for the Assholes: Rewatching South Park’s “You’re Getting Old”
South Park’s “You’re Getting Old” might be the rawest look at depression ever put on TV. Fart jokes fade, Randy confesses, Stevie sings, and it all lands harder than most dramas. On rewatch, I saw myself — and heard Kanye’s Runaway in the background.
Leslie Was Just the Beginning
I used to build ads that floated across your screen and made you curse. Now the ads don’t just annoy you—they study you. They know when you’re whispering to Alexa about Dunkaroos at 2am, and they never let you forget it.
We Were the Chosen Ones (Until We Weren’t)
We were the chosen ones once, our childhood stories, our heroes, our franchises. But they kept going without us. This is a personal farewell to Ghostbusters, Marvel, wrestling, and all the icons that shaped us… then left us behind for the next generation. And that’s okay.
Scan Me Again, Doc – I’m Remarkable on the Inside
Another scan, another “unremarkable” verdict. Funny—my organs have survived decades of bad food, worse decisions, and zero applause. That liver’s a legend. That colon’s seen things. Call it average if you want, but in here? It’s heroic.
Lessons We Shouldn’t Have Learned: Back to the Future
Time-travel classic? Sure. Childhood favorite? Absolutely. But let’s stop pretending Back to the Future didn’t teach us a bunch of deranged life lessons disguised as sci-fi magic. Here are ten of the worst.
Lessons We Shouldn’t Have Learned: The Karate Kid
We all grew up thinking The Karate Kid was about honor, balance, and personal growth. But if you rewatch it with grown-ass eyes, it starts to look less like a coming-of-age tale and more like a training video for delusion, entitlement, and poorly disguised emotional manipulation. These are the lessons I (unfortunately) learned.
Holding the Torch, Even If It Burns
We weren’t the ones who broke it, but we’re the ones still holding the fire. Maybe that’s the point—not to tear it all down, but to keep it alive long enough for someone else to finally light it up.
The Eternal Loop: Tom & Jerry and the Old Gods of Beautiful Violence
Tom and Jerry weren’t just cartoons. They were gods of motion, bruised saints of Saturday mornings, locked in a sacred loop of slapstick and survival. We didn’t just laugh — we recognized ourselves in the chase.
The Great American Ass-Washing Debacle
We put robots on Mars, but still wipe like it’s 1840. While Japan bathes its buns in warm water and dignity, America listens to cartoon bears talk about dingleberries. It’s time. Your butthole deserves better. Wash your ass.
You’re Not a Narcissist Slayer—You’re Just Kind of a Jerk
I may be a little angry on this one. Everyone learned the language of healing, but not the skills. This is a no-bull takedown of therapy-speak cosplay, rebranded dysfunction, and the cult of curated pain.
Tourist of Money
Watching The White Lotus reminded me: I was never wealthy—I was just visiting. This is what it feels like to lose the mask, the job, and the illusion of middle-class safety, while still trying to raise a daughter in a world built for someone else.
do I have a collection?
Collecting is my vice. My comfort. My chaos.
Swedish Death Cleaning for Geeks
My geek vault holds treasures: Hot Toys, comics, vintage gear. But as a Gen X collector, I'm facing the looming fear that my passion might become a massive burden for my daughter. It's time for "Swedish Death Cleaning" – not to purge the magic, but to turn a lifetime of collecting into a clear, story-tagged legacy.
TV Custody Battle
We stole Cheers from the Boomers. Millennials claimed The Office and Buffy. But who really owns Breaking Bad, Lost, or Stranger Things? This is TV Custody Battle — where generational trauma gets sorted out by remote control.
Where Everybody Knew Their Name
George Wendt’s passing feels like more than just the loss of an actor — it’s the quiet goodbye to another barstool filled in the sitcoms that raised us. We’re not just losing celebrities. We’re losing the cast of our own background noise.
When the Bass Was My Pulse
A sweaty, electric memoir of Bronx nights, club chaos, and the beats that kept us alive before the silence came. This is how we danced to survive.
Still Digging: An Ode to the Searchers
We’re all still digging, still searching for that something—love, happiness, redemption, a little peace. From pink houses with peeling paint to late-night check-ins with old friends, the search never stops. Here’s to those who keep clawing at the dirt, believing there’s something more just beneath the surface.
Ghosts in the Cloud: How We Lost Our Family Photos
We used to pull memories off the shelf. Now we just swipe past them. Photos used to be proof you existed — heavy, real, something you could hold. Now they float in the cloud, untethered and untouched. We traded permanence for convenience, and all we got were ghosts.
GENEX FORCE
GenEx Force is the codename for the last real-world generation. Their mission: to keep life unplugged, unfiltered, and unforgettable. While Boomers hold on to a past that never was, and Gen Z lives on screens, GenEx Force fights for mixtapes, landlines, and the smell of a real bookstore. Because someone has to remember.
Since Listicles Do Well, Here’s One About How Much Disney Princesses Stink
Since listicles do big numbers, Genex Geek is proud to present the most important ranking in Disney history: how much each princess probably stank. Medieval hygiene? Nonexistent. Indoor plumbing? A fairy tale. We’re pulling back the curtain on the musk and must of happily ever after. Spoiler: birds braiding your hair doesn’t count as a shower.
The Last Lost Romantic
Before nice guys found Reddit to complain and incels crowned Andrew Tate their king, there were diaries—Hallmark-purchased, filled with scribbled declarations of love and martyrdom that only existed in my head. This isn’t just teenage longing; it’s a masterclass in unearned heartbreak, the myth of the Last Romantic. Or maybe…just the Lost one.
re: Tony. A Dreamer Awoken
A lover of Love. A pen for a friend. And poems that kept me breathing when I couldn’t speak. Another four pages from the diary of a dreamer, awakening one cringe at a time.
re: Tony. Psalms for the Forgotten Vigilante
The romantic is dead. In his place: a vigilante, a prophet, a ghost in the city’s gutters. This is grief in a mask—and the mask cracks.
Funko Pops Are the McDonald’s of Collecting, and I’m Sick of It
Funko Pops are the McDonald’s of collecting—cheap, stackable, and everywhere. They’re choking out real collectibles with their vinyl tombstone aisles, turning what used to be a hunt for artistry into a wasteland of plastic placeholders. When did we trade craftsmanship for convenience?
Suffering as System: How We Got Tricked Into Worshiping the Grind
We were taught to worship suffering — to believe pain meant progress. But what if the grind isn’t noble? What if it’s just control dressed up as virtue? From AI shame to student loan revenge, this essay breaks down the cult of pain we were raised in — and why it’s time to walk away.
It’s Good to Be the King: A Gen X Homage to Mel Brooks
Mel Brooks didn’t just spoof movies—he dissected the absurdity of racism, religion, and power with fart jokes and Broadway numbers. For Gen X kids raised on cable, his films weren’t just funny—they were survival manuals wrapped in slapstick. This is a love letter to the standup philosopher who made it okay to laugh at everything, including ourselves.
The Coat Room and the Kitchen
A memory dive into family parties, childhood exile, and the two rooms where everything happened—one we were sent to, one we snuck into. The coat room and the kitchen. A story about growing up just outside the action, watching everything.
Yo, Don’t Drink That: Growing Up with Bronx Bullsh*t
Before Google, we had hallway whispers and corner-store warnings. Growing up in the Bronx during the ’80s and ’90s meant dodging Nair balloons, fearing “sterile” sodas, and praying your jacket didn’t get you jumped. These weren’t just urban legends—they were survival guides passed down in lunchrooms, stairwells, and the back of the bodega.
Five Below Is Her Woolworth’s
She dragged me into Five Below. I almost groaned — until I realized. This is her Woolworth’s. I had Crazy Eddie, Alexander’s, Tower Records. She has squish toys and five-dollar lava lamps. Every generation needs its own plastic paradise.
The Fat Generation? A Love Letter to Our Worn-Out Bodies
Gen X was never built for longevity. We were raised on sarcasm, sugar, and survival. Now we’re aging into broken knees, lost insurance, and jumpsuits that don’t quite zip. This isn’t a fitness manifesto. It’s a love letter to the generation that never expected to grow old — and the bodies we’re learning to live in, even as they fall apart.
Bugs Bunny: The Trickster God of Saturday Mornings
Bugs Bunny wasn’t just a cartoon — he was a trickster god. Chaos incarnate in a rabbit suit, rewriting reality every Saturday morning with wit, drag, and a Brooklyn grin. Let me know if you want an alternate version with a different tone (funnier, more mythic, more nostalgic, etc).
The Pink Panther: The Silent God of Benevolent Entropy
The Pink Panther wasn’t just cool — he was mythic. A silent trickster god in a half-built world, reminding us that not everything needs to be finished, and sometimes the kindest thing you can do is gently peel a wall away.
A Letter to My Daughter
I see the anger. I see the fear hiding under it. I see a version of myself standing behind her eyes, and it terrifies me. This is a letter I never thought I’d have to write — to the girl I love, fighting the same ghosts I never fully outran.
Trauma Forges Passion
Some kids grew up on fairy tales. We grew up staring wide-eyed into war, horror, and madness, too young to understand it, too broken to ever forget. And we were probably better for it.
Bought cream… accidentally signed up to be a butthole influencer
I bought hemorrhoid cream and somehow got recruited to be a butthole influencer. The instructions literally ask for before-and-after pics, complete with a QR code. I’ve already got the ring light ready.
The Gospel According to Holden, Cronshaw, and Lying Alice
Three books raised me more than any adult did. One helped me survive. One made me question everything. And one lied to me—and I believed it.
We Promised Not to Forget. We Did Anyway.
We promised not to forget. But when grief came too fast, too often, and too close to home, we buried the names beneath numbers—and moved on. This isn’t nostalgia. It’s resistance to forgetting.
Bracing for the Fall: A Gen X Life in Seasons
We lived it all — the mixtapes and breakups, the mortgages and firstborns, the divorces and funeral suits. This is the story of a life lived in seasons — from the reckless spring of our youth to the quiet before winter. A memoir for Gen X hearts still beating under layers of flannel and fatigue.
When Theme Songs Were an Art Form
There was a time when TV didn’t just start — it sang its way into your home. From the gospel joy of The Jeffersons to the lonely piano of Cheers, theme songs were once an art form. We’re remembering the greats from the 1970s and 1980s — and what we lost when intros became skip buttons.
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