My roommate Rob and I went to the local T. B.
O'McFlynagin's for dinner. One of the TVs hanging from the ceiling was
tuned to the local Fox
station and what was on but American High, a type of Real World
for the high school set.
I found it amuzing at first, watching teenage angst from a decade (or so)
down the road until the show focused on
who seemed to be in a straight jacket while talking about things.
It was hard to tell if he was upset or not, as the volume was turned off,
but closed captions were turned on. But he seemed to be taking it all in
stride, like wearing a straight jacket is normal for kids today, especially
ones that take Ridalin, Prozac and other jagged little pills.
“My god,” I said. “I'm almost glad I'm not a kid
“Me too,” said Rob.
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