Tilt Republic. Johannesburg. New York. Cape Town. London.

In Response

I’ve just put down an article by Lin Sampson, entitled Talking the Tweet, in the Sundays Times Lifestyle section, which to my (alleged) limited regard for print media, seems to be one of the best lifestyle rags around. It has left me with mixed feelings; teetering between pissed off and bored.

I’m writing this quickly because I want to go catch the new Spiderman, but I need to get it out before I can relax.


My first reaction is to defend my(?) generation, which until now I’ve had no real idealogical affiliation to. I really wish the generation naming committee would do a little census before they slap an entire group with a label as terminally dull as millenials. It just sounds so fucking incontinent. I know Sampson didn’t coin the phrase but what she did manage to do was to patronise an entire generation, including me. Now I don’t want to get into the kind of reactionary stance obscured by petty revenge, but I will say this; fuck that article.


That she sought a gifted online writer and found someone who’s blog was “so bad it was like someone trying to play a piano with his teeth,” pisses on an entire local alternative literary movement, sustained by the very ADD Milllenials she so condescendingly wanks on. Mahala, RandomHighFives, Cape Town Alive or A Broken Pen all could have given her feedback on local millenial writers a celebratory theme. Instead, she chose to make baby noises at it, because endorsing it would be just preposterous.


Not convinced, here’s some more trash talk, “Unlike previous generations who caressed the images of film noir or debated the ‘sprung rhythm’ of TS Eliot’s poetry, millenials like their heroes young and simple, like Harry Potter and that nurse in Heroes who has healing powers.” There’s so much I hate about that last quote I actually had to stand up and swear out loud, what is she talking about? Trying to convince herself that film noir and artistic criticism was a component unique to her generation’s zeitgeist, fuck.


This kind of banal, one dimensional old people babble that ebbs progression and creates rifts is probably why we prefer meme websites over newspapers. Cultural criticism needs front footed appreciation at its helm, sure we need to know what we hate to gird that which we love, but this piss poor disregard for my(?) generation’s inner world can solicit only contempt.


Her intent was set before her research even started, she simply went looking for tag lines and relevant hooks to illustrate her suburbanite cookie cut disregard for the generation that proceded hers.


I know, like any generation, there are some severely unimpressive people in mine(?), but seeking someone who writes like he plays the piano with teeth as a representative is just irritating.


Yours in indie folk, post modern steam punk and art catalogue essays.

Much Love

A fucking Millenial