Valedictorians of the Anti- A Love Letter from Gen Y to Gen Z
Nineteen hundred and ninety-eight. The year, not the cash.
Ok. Weren’t we just two years from the world ending anyhow?
It gave me a secret thrill to hear of our empty coffers. The artist in me already knew besides that failure was the only way out. Proudly Generation “Why?”
Empires collapse, fortunes evaporate, and stocks nosedive into hell—but a deep sleep, a clean shit, and a laugh that shakes your skeleton remain the closest thing humanity has to real wealth.