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But that isn't the point of this post. Nor the deer-in-headlights picture. Not even the funny story about how this GenX'er cannot believe Mrs. Newt Gingrinch was born in 1966 (full story).
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But I do love this callout in the middle of a ranting paragraph. It's funny.
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Yet many of us, creaking into middle age though we are, remain radicalized by our increasingly distant youth. By the crap storm of Reagan and the AIDS epidemic and the devastation of the first Gulf War. By grunge and Janeane Garofalo and Usenet. I can accept that I'm a relic of an earlier era when I watch "Before Sunrise" with my daughters and they cannot fathom why those two crazy kids can't just email each other. I can grasp that being of the same era doesn't make people automatically have the same values; if that were the case, Gingrich and Iggy Pop would probably have more to say to each other. But I find it mind-boggling that the same year in American history that gave us Ad-Rock could produce a Callista Gingrich.