There's that ubiquitous MySpace bulletin floating around, screeching in all caps,
So I'm straining my eyes scrolling through 100 single-spaced entries written by a kid born in 1990: "Remember Nickelodeon when it was GOOD?". Good taste is subjective, but yes. "Remember the Spice Girls?" Sure. "Remember Pokemon?". Um…

But I get to a-scratchin' my noggin when I see this one: "Do you remember exactly when River Phoenix, Kurt Cobain, and Selena died?". What? You remember exactly WHEN and HOW they died? You were 3, 4, and 5 years old at the time, respectively. As someone whose life was a blur until the age of 14, I call bullshit.

Did Mr. Goofy's Learnatorium screen My Own Private Idaho for your preschool class as you sat scattered on the circle zoo rug, mouths agape at this portrayal of gay male prozzies? Were you the world's tiniest Tejano fan, freaking out your mom with your sparkly outfits and long black wig? Did you earn your first Cub Scout badge for your handwriting analysis of Kurt Cobain's suicide note and subsequent conspiracy theory?

God, these kids are getting more precocious by the day. It must be something in the water.