Get Off the Internet and Read This

From Merle Hankin's column "Back in My Day"

Get off my lawn. Then read my column.

Let me be clear from the jump: I’ve got something to say, and you’re gonna hear it whether or not it fits inside your attention span. You can write your little rebuttals and post your disagreeing opinions online—just know I won’t read them, because I still use a Rolodex and believe comment sections are where stupid goes to die.

Now, before some poor soul sends me a strongly worded email (which I won’t receive, because I don’t “do” email), let’s establish a few things. This ain’t a conversation. This is a declaration. A transmission from an era when phones had cords and cars still had ashtrays. My job here isn’t to “engage with modern discourse.” It’s to tell you how the world used to work before it got flattened, filtered, and franchised into a kale smoothie with Wi-Fi.

Back in my day, we fixed things with duct tape, elbow grease, and the deafening silence of unresolved family tension. You didn’t cry about your “inner child”—you sent him outside until he toughened up or got bored. When I was a boy, we solved problems by ignoring them until they either went away or became someone else’s issue. It was called grit. And if something hurt, well, we slapped a little iodine on it and moved on. Now you need three apps, a therapist, and a LinkedIn course to change a tire.

I saw a fella last week order coffee with “notes of citrus and affirmations.” I nearly gave him a knuckle sandwich just on principle. You know what coffee used to taste like? Regret. And that was the appeal. You drank it black, boiling, and bitter enough to burn the bad decisions out of your bloodstream.

This column isn’t gonna be a bout nostalgia. It’s a public service. And you can thank me now. You may think I’m just yelling at clouds, but if the clouds are Bluetooth-enabled and leaking subscription fees, maybe they deserve it. I’m not here to wax poetic about the past. I’m here to remind you what a functioning society looked like before it drowned in gluten-free self-expression and online think pieces written by people named Indigo.

You want to understand the difference between now and then? Back then, coffee tasted like burnt bark and came in one flavor: “Hot.” You drank it. It made you alert, suspicious, and bitter—like a proper American. Now you kids are sipping lavender-infused bean foam with positive affirmations written in caramel. And then you wonder why civilization is circling the drain.

And don’t come crying to me about how “the world’s changed.” No kidding, chrome dome. It changed—for the worse. Progress? Overrated. Convenience? Suspicious. Newfangled ideas? Probably wrong. I’m not here to adapt—I’m here to remind you that wisdom doesn’t come from trending hashtags or TED Talks. It comes from living long enough to know exactly when everything started going to hell.

And I was there when it happened. I remember the day. It was Tuesday.

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