Don’t get me wrong, I like kids…. The problem is there are just too many of them. You can’t throw a brick on this island without concussing one. I wish I had more restraint. But I can’t help but hate how they look at me, how they don’t look at me, I hate their interchangeable bodies, their mass-rehearsed attitudes, their cars that look like boxes, like baseball caps, like artificial enlargements, their loud advertising, their beeps and clicks and trings, I hate how they speak words as though they’re chewing them, how they assume the business of the world resolves around them - how they’re right—and how everywhere this cult of youth, this pedomorphic dumbing-down, has whored beauty - duped, drugged, damaged, pixelated it and everywhere turned it to plastic.