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That, more than any person or event, informed the experience of nineties life: an adversarial relationship with the unseemliness of trying too hard.
It was perhaps the last period in American history when personal and political engagement was still viewed as optional.
If a society improves, the experience of growing up in that society should be less taxing and more comfortable; if technology advances and efficiency increases, emerging generations should rationally expect to work less. If new kids aren’t soft and lazy, something has gone wrong.
The concept of “selling out”—and the degree to which that notion altered the meaning and perception of almost everything—is the single most nineties aspect of the nineties.
“This car is like punk rock,”
“I don’t understand this whole thing about computers and the superhighway,” sci-fi novelist Ray Bradbury told an audience of college students in 1995. “Who wants to be in touch with all of those people?”
Yet the single most interesting thing about Titanic is its total commitment to expressing nothing that could be construed as interesting, now or then.
The Matrix resonated not because it was fantastical fiction, but because it was not.
the nineties were a good time to be president, and he was a good president for good times.
Again and again, Bush was described as the candidate voters “would rather have a beer with.” It was a very nineties way to think about a problem.
No stories were viral. No celebrity was trending. The world was still big. The country was still vast. You could just be a little person, with your own little life and your own little thoughts. You didn’t have to have an opinion, and nobody cared if you did or did not. You could be alone on purpose, even in a crowd.