A part of the What’s Up With Stuff series.
“We’re here to keep you relevant, Mr. Forsight,” these little ankle-biters always tell me. Credit where credit’s due, I like their politeness, but I don’t know how many times I have to explain it to these kids, relevancy goes out the window after 30 years on the job.
I’m checked out. I haven’t been culturally relevant since my son showed me that Weakerthans song where the guy says “sorry” in an incredibly Canadian accent. We laughed together. Maybe I should call my son.
They’re pleading with me, “Mr. Forsight, Mr. Forsight, give us your take on Dogecoins! The world will want to know.” I’m not sure I want to know what a Dogecoin is. I prefer dead presidents to adorn my change, and that’s just how I do business. I tried to make a joke about Catecoins, but all I was met with was respectful laughter. Again, these grasshoppers are respectful bastards, but all this respect is just damn tiresome.
I caught two of them chatting in the Robot Butt cafeteria. They were giggling about some character named Bubbles on a show about trailer parks. Sounds disrespectful to me. “But Mr. Forsight, aren’t you excited for seasons 8 and 9?” they pleaded when I told them to stop talking like that or I’d dump that chopped salad on the floor. It’s as if they never learn. I’ve dumped chopped salads on the floor for much less, that’s just the way the newsroom ran back then. Besides, in the olden days, we’d have one season and we liked it!
I’ve got palpitations because of these kids. I swear they are able to make my blood pressure rise at will. Cover this. Cover that. “Mr. Forsight, this is important stuff!” If it is so important, it will get covered on NBC Nightly News. Just please don’t let me die before my pension kicks in. I think my interns are secretly trying to kill me.