A couple of years ago, photos an old friend was tagged in popped up in my Facebook feed. They were from a joint party celebrating a birthday and a divorce. She was the incipient divorcee and not the birthday gal. Though I am a divorce enthusiast, I couldn’t help but twitch with a bit of heartache for her two young sons surely rocked by the covid program. I was around when they were both born, and they were such sweet babies. Everyone was so happy and boisterous and busy around them. Just lots of love they could count on from the moment they could perceive it.

Yes I know it happens all the time, and often for the better for children caught in the middle of miserable relationships. Regardless, it is a rupture, and I imagine it can be difficult for a young person to try to process feelings of betrayal over guilt. The former, rightly or wrongly, is something that a child is entitled to feel in such a situation. An oppressive, backwards regime has ruled over us so long it instills guilt in the most vulnerable for the direction of world events, so that often gets heaped on them now, and even dealing with it has been “normalized” by the psych wing of the MIC. Your thoroughly un-christlike entrance into the world didn’t change anything and fuck you.

And so Gen X are slackers, Millennials are pussies, and Gen Z are hopeless subhumans. Everyone is beaten down for thinking and making a way toward self-determination, so why try. There are funko pops and adult coloring books and meal services and a whole lot of other shit to distract us from that. It’s so backwards but fully reversible. Who will try? Scores of adults failed their children in multiple ways during covid. Were there enough parents who resisted, and where are they now- mentally.

Regardless of what that may mean politically at this juncture, putting yourself ahead of your children in a typical situation where you, the adult, have had all the advantages and opportunities to understand what covid is in age of full apocalyptic disclosure is selfish. I’m not saying it necessarily makes one a bad person- it’s just not a decent thing to do to a vulnerable fellow human who relies on you for their every need, but if you are a bad person in the eyes of your offspring, then you probably are. Maybe you can redeem yourself during the next cataclysm, but it’s not about your petty shit or only getting a blow job quarterly or whatever. We’re all supposed to be the adults, and it’s not fucking cooties, spacecraft, “undocumented people”, or cow flatulence. For fuck’s sake.

A newly installed female internet-influencer holiday ritual is to come online and lay in to your complaints about your male partner’s laziness with regard to anything domestic. Just let it rip. It’s very weird – for all this filming and editing, you could talk to your partner about it. Set a schedule, make lists, divide and conquer. I’d assume that’s a possibility to try if you’re putting all their shit out to stink in front of millions virtually. Perhaps not so much for members of the target audience, so it can be viewed as a part of this omnipresent infantile indoctrination program continually humming along and fueling every resentment possible that we don’t know what to do with.

There are aspects of housekeeping and caregiving that should be taken for granted. It should be simple; grievances and resentment over chores and just the basics of loving and caring for a helpless human you created should not be so bottled up so that violence erupts, and I don’t think it should be for leaving for not figuring this out. It’s uncomfortable but maybe you’ll have to talk about vacuuming and pre/postnuptials rather than bickering about the personal loan you took out for Disneyworld.

Anyone who places no value on your labor even when you are legally entitled to it sees you as an object and worse. These are not people to have in your life in any way, and that is it. I hope more women who’ve put up with this for too long have figured it out yesterday after the wave of domestic violence we saw increase during the lockdowns. So here’s to an influencer collapse in 2025, back to satan’s anus with them.

Things can be so easy and wonderful, but the path is treacherous, and it doesn’t have to happen with all these faux complications and anxieties that allegedly make us into “adults”. No one has a proscribed love language, neurodivergence is meaningless, and ASMR sucks.