Generation Bubble proudly announces its latest feature, “Bubble Barons,” in which we celebrate Generation-Y playaz with trashy dreams of easy millions and even easier sex (Big ups for the photo to Sorry I Missed Your Party, our favorite Flickr pickr):
You know the type:
+ 2.0 GPA from a sun-belt state university (Summa Cum Party);
+ Three or four $10k-limit credit cards from MBNA, Capital One or some other loan-sharking outfit, all nearly maxed out, one just by bar tabs;
+ At least three big-ticket items on payments, and at least one in collection;
+ At least three recent aesthetic surgeries on payments;
+ Vanity license plates advertising a) occupation, b) income or c) self;
+ At least one job in some corner of the service sector considered vaguely glamorous — nightclub bartender, stylist, personal trainer or exotic dancer/rough trade;
+ Dreams of mid-thirties retirement;
+ Dubious get-rich-quick schemes of an IT sort directed toward realizing this early retirement, typically involving a) type-o squatting, b) porn or c) both;
+ Subscriptions to magazines that organize and reinforce his ego-ideal, usually Details, Maxim, Hustler, Men’s Fitness and The Robb Report;
+ Read The Catcher in the Rye once — and maybe The Great Gatsby, too (he can’t remember);
+ Pre-parties so hard that by the time he parties there’s inevitably a) a throw-up, b) a beat-down or c) both.
And the list goes on. But we hope you get the picture. Should you need further background, though, Generation Bubble recommends Dirty Scottsdale, an indispensible research resource.