Dirty, Sanctimonious Motherfuckers.

Fucking salon readers. Fucking salon.

Salon has an interview with a woman who wrote a book about how tough it is, economically, to be young right now. And, predictably, there's a fucking firestorm of letters about how it's not tough to be young now, and everyone else has had to walk up hill two ways in the snow to work at McDonalds for a bundle of sticks and twigs.

Bullshit.

Let me tell you the differences between then and now:
1. Housing costs.
2. Job Opportunities.

Let's start right up with housing costs.
Let's start with where I live. I live in a one-bedroom apartment. With a roommate, an inadequate stove, and no utilities included. For this we pay $750 a month, which is a steal. My landlord could be getting 1100 for this below-code charmer. And, of all the people I know...I am the only one who is not married and not living with their parents.

Renting is too expensive, period. The shittiest, smallest apartment in Boston is too expensive to even dream of renting if you don't have a serious, non-entry level, non-service industry job. It's expensive because people try to make the biggest profit they can, and everyone wants it now. Some motherfucker dies, and his heirs sell his house for 250,000. Some dirty motherfucker comes along, slams some cheap corian knock-off countertops in there, sells it for 475,000. Guy next door, bought his house for 30,000 fifteen years ago, decides to cash out for more than ten times what he paid. Sells his triple-decker for 450,000. Dirty asshole developer buys it, refinishes the floor, adds a fire escape, sells it as three 'luxury' condos for 275,000. And the next motherfucker who buys the condo expects to sell it for 325,000 in six months.

The rich are now rich enough and mobile enough to buy up any housing stock, anywhere they please. The poor are now richer than they were, but not rich enough to live.

And you know what? This shit drives the economy. Take a generation. Force them to live with their parents. Now, even if they make much less than they should, a greater percentage of their income is disposeable, because rent is no longer the largest expense in their budget. Result? Everybody buys a fucking ipod. Everybody leases a car. Everybody buys every shitty cd, gets credit cards, frequent flyer models, and luxury goods.

Note to assholes everywhere: MY GENERATION ISN'T POOR BECAUSE IT'S BUYING LUXURY GOODS, IT'S BUYING LUXURY GOODS BECAUSE IT'S POOR.

We'd sure rather spend thirty percent of our income on housing, save thirty percent, and spend thirty percent on disposeable goods. But since housing would be sixty percent of our income, the very thought of living within means is absurd.

I made 10,000 last year. My rent is 375 a month. Heat averages to 107 a month, if I were on the budget plan. Phone is 40, internet is 40. (Don't say internet isn't a necessity, I need it for school). Tell, me, folks. What luxuries did I spend my 3000 dollars on? What fabulous consumer goods did I consume?

Not meat, I'll tell you that.

Housing is impossible. It just is. And it's impossible because of selfishness and profiteering at every level. So that's a factor.

2. Job Opportunities.

There are none.
Let me tell you about a magical time, children. That magical time was called the internet boom. During that magical time, there were jobs. There were jobs for technical people, administrative people, creative people. And there were jobs for people without experience.

Then the internet boom busted.

And there was nothing. No jobs. And suddenly, experience was a keyword. As in, years of. As in, young people need not apply. There are no entry level jobs, friend. There are none. Nobody wants to train somebody right out of college for something that could grow into a career, when they can post an ad on the internet and get someone pre-trained.

Anything that doesn't require experience is not posted, not advertised, and only available to someone with connections. So, the middle class need not apply. Too bad for you, you ugly motherfucker, if your parents don't have chums in the industry you'd like to enter. Too bad for you, unfortunate choad, if you didn't get that one internship available. Too bad for you if you were working too much for pay to work for free, and didn't make a connection.

Especially too bad for you, sugar-pie, if you believed them when they told you you could be anything. Turns out you can only be anything useful, profitable and technical. Writers- in oversupply. Need connections. Photographers- in oversupply. Anything fun or creative, anything a child could name as a goal...even policeman, fireman, carpenter, plumber...nope, kid, need to get into a union, take the test they aren't having for another five years...

There are no jobs. The only jobs available are those serving people lucky enough, connected enough, to already have them. Like mine.


Solutions:

1. Penalties for real-estate profiteers. Instead of capital gains, I think we should get to pelt you with shit, for longer and longer periods, based on how much price-gouging you've engaged in.

Say you bought your house for 25,000 at a time when the average salary was 5,000 a year. Now, you want to sell it. The average salary is now 50,000 a year. You may sell the house for 250,000, or get pelted with ripe shit for five minutes for every 10,000 over the set price.

The real estate agent would be immersed in sour milk for the same amount of time.

2. Nepotism=similar solution. If you hire someone recommended to you by a friend or relative over someone similarly qualified, and that can be proven, I get to pelt you with shit. Every other week, on a friday. For 35 minutes. Until you've learned your lesson.

That guy.

He's pretty great, actually.
He's tall. He laughs with me. Even when it's not funny. Even when it's just so I'm not laughing alone. It's a great laugh. Nothing high and squeaky, nothing with a guffaw. It's pretty great.
He's got these brownish eyes. Hazel for real, not like mine, which are lies. Perfect eyebrows. Smile with no fangs.
He gives me all the little things without thinking. He lets me choose everything. I abuse that, actually.
He reads very, very fast. He thinks Stalin is funny. And Mao. He's smart. He makes his own jokes. He knows how to be quiet right; most people don't know how to be quiet without being resentful quiet or bored quiet or angry quiet. He does the right quiet.
His arms are perfect and he's so warm. He is enough human being to be enfolded in. Which is nice. Which is really nice.
He likes the beach in summer and everywhere else in winter.
I love him at the aquarium. I love him in line for doughboys. I love him at the stove. I love him drunk on the couch. I love him on the ferry.

I love him when he loves me back.

Time until deletion: 12 hours. You have 'til nine am to read this, guy. Then it stops gaying up the internet.