Sometimes it’s difficult for me to understand the implications of generational change, the 0.0001784 × 10 +6 graying in my right temple make me forget that years have passed, and not in vain!. Also my children’s therapy of tickling me every 3.0875 minutes, their amazement when they say me “dons g!” and their mother’s affectionate diminutive for keeping me as 13 years ago IN a more than ADO.net.
When I see a guy down the street who wears the pants down his calves, his underwear on the outside and a scorpion tattooed on his neck, I have the feeling of wanting to say “hello Terrans”. My mother’s therapy works; it always reminds me that we have not always had more than 35, in my memory times I remember have been the headache of an aunt who wore habit in her words seeing our follies when entering high school.
I remember having used (before the horse tail) a forehead’s spiky punk to the endpoint, long with wicks in ortho down, my temples shaved with the razor number 1 and two 0 rays to each side; this was in those years when Def Leppard sang Love Bites with duodenum, just when Bon Jovi released the New Jersey album and Iron Maiden the seventh son of the seventh son.
Oh, what those times, it little matters to us that Milli Vanilli was a farce, we got more offended when Bon Jovi cut his hair as a girl; making MC Hammer pirouettes’ was an art, girls adored us for this in public and hated us in baths; Metallica to the extremes, U2 for the select, Guns n ‘ Roses for any rocker with style, Poison for the ones without whim… that was life!.
We wore tube pants [not extremely ample (Spanish Idiom: “mamey”) as now] doubled at the height of the ankle as Tin-tin pants, while red scarves just moved from 13 in the thighs to one in the head as the gang from Nicky Cruz. And our walking was like taking small impulses, I realized this when in season of patriotic marches the head instructor called me to the front and forced me to walk normal … not lift!, walk plane! … It was impossible, it was in my blood.
… It seems like yesterday. Well, for somebody the day before yesterday.
Now it’s hard to understand these creatures that, if don’t shave all hair they use it as Goku, if not wear loose pants to calf, they used it to the hip showing the letter Y (and are male), with some strips of 7.62 centimeters wide, buckles that could be categorized as bladed weapons and a spline stand that when they walk their ass looks like a rugby cube.
Understanding them is not so simple, one day we discussed the topic with a friend, we were about to stop being so. Another mailed me a picture that explains the possible reasons for our resistance to these trends:
- Low self-esteem by chronic malnutrition
- Intrinsic acrobatic skills
- Critical case of conjoined twins
- Sexual preferences within the closet
- … Or what kind of days the Sun enlightens us.