An obituary to the things millennials have killed


Well, duh. We’re not getting married! And when we are, maybe we’re thinking longer than six seconds about the person we’re pledging our life, wealth and future children to. (John Jones/Flickr Creative Commons)

So, apparently, the Millennial Generation (which, with all this faffing about decades and whatnot, is generally agreed to cut off with those born around the late 90’s) is killing… well, everything, from condiments to sex to parenthood to just about anything that makes America great. And apparently our generation rejecting stuff we don’t like that the old people do is a heinous, heinous crime.

People: it’s called the free market. So what if the majority of the customer base stops buying diamonds and napkins? Boo-freaking-hoo. The market demand determines what is supplied. This is what “The customer is always right” is SUPPOSED to refer to, though nowadays it’s just a way for old people to justify screaming at a customer service person who has little to no control over the thing they’re being screamed at about.

Capitalism or no, there’s no denying Millenials have made certain traditions and products go the way of the dodo. If I listed them all, this article’s word count could probably pay for the student loans that prevent me from actually buying/investing in most of this stuff, so I’ll stick with the highlights. Send your condolences, folks, to the things we’ve killed.


Apparently this egg-based condiment is now equated with whitewashing and homogeneity, according to that extensive diatribe by a woman who’s ancestral potato salad got snubbed at a summer barbeque. OK, OK, I get it. Mayo is American. Americans grew up with mayo, and now it’s being tossed aside for more exotic fare like chutney and aioli, like forgoing the family golden retriever for a barky little chihuahua. Then again, the writer of the aforementioned diatribe also touted the glories of the Jello salad, so maybe her claims aren’t as sound as they seem.

Rest in peace, mayonnaise; born in France in the 1800s, and died when nobody liked Sandy’s egg salad last July. May you find happiness in the back of the fridge, or through your use in unmentionable frat pranks for years to come.


Ah, marriage, the ancient enterprise that seems to be on the decline, what with high school proposals dropping out and “MRS degree” becoming a dirty word. Never mind that weddings are expensive as heck, and as soon as you opt for a courthouse ceremony, you have three dozen relatives screeching at you for “not properly celebrating your special day!!!!”

Besides, when did marriage become part of the equation for happiness? When you grow up hearing jokes about nagging wives and useless husbands, about “the ol’ ball and chain” and other such gripes, it’s no wonder we’re shying away from it for independence and being able to live a messy bachelor(ette) life. We’re just avoiding the mistakes you made, Mom and Dad.

So, rest in peace, marriage, born of political and economic necessity, and died at the hands of cheap stand-up jokes, price-gouging wedding vendors and horrible family sitcoms.


Won’t anyone think of the poor De Beers executives? Their poor bleeding pockets are draining dry now that kids are forgoing diamonds for other, shinier, more sustainably mined/not artificially price-inflated gems. Who will think of them, holed away in their massive mansions, as the few Millennials who are proposing turn to sapphires and emeralds and (gasp!) synthetic alternatives? How on earth will the blood diamond industry operate? Face it, diamond corporations. We’ve all seen too many Adam Ruins Everything videos to fall for the shams you keep throwing at us. Diamonds aren’t forever; in fact, under the right conditions, you can set them on fire. They’re worthless, colorless and pointless.

Rest in peace, diamonds. You were born millions of miles under the earth’s crust, and you died when all those snarky De Beers expose articles started circulating the internet.


Well, duh. We’re not getting married! And when we are, maybe we’re thinking longer than six seconds about the person we’re pledging our life, wealth and future children to. Maybe it’s because we grew up being shuttled from house to house on weekends and weekdays. Maybe it’s because we remember our Uncle Steve crashing on the couch after Aunt Carol cleaned him out because she had a better divorce lawyer. Maybe it’s because we remember hiding our heads under a pillow while Mom and Dad screamed at each other downstairs.

Or maybe it’s because we hate divorce attorneys. Go figure!

Rest in peace, divorce, born from necessity and endless celebrity couple shuffles, and died at the hands of loving commitment.

House Ownership

This is like killing the American dream. Lazy millennials, spending all their money on coffee and dog costumes and not saving up for a house like their parents and grandparents and the Puritans, etc. did. Never mind that even if you stopped buying a $5 coffee every day for five years, you wouldn’t even be able to scrape enough for a down payment on a place that isn’t next to a turkey factory, a grimy bar or the town’s sewage processing plant–and we’re not even factoring in loans! Yep, it’s alllllll our fault that the housing market imploded in 2008. Twelve-year-old me was really disappointed with the real estate market then.

So rest in peace, white picket fences and equity. Forever may you rest under HOA-approved flowerbeds, wrapped in a shroud of mortgage agreement documents and classified Lehman Brothers memos.


Remember that Disney movie about Shia LaBeouf achieving his dreams of becoming a golf champion? No? Thought so, because this generation does not care about golf. It’s a rich person’s game. You need money to buy all the specialized equipment, money to pay the people lugging it around for you, money to maintain your course and a ton of free time to actually play. And then most of that free time is spent walking/golf carting around, aiming for the ball, hitting said ball into a sandpit, throwing your expensive stuff into the water hazard and watching other people do the same thing.

Millenials don’t have time for that! We’re too busy studying, working three jobs to pay for rent and complaining about golf on the internet. The only golf millenials want to be involved in includes little windmills and ice cream at the end. Let golf die.

So rest in peace, golf. You were born on the Scottish highlands, and you died at the hands of people pursuing more interesting sports, like rugby, where you can legally beat your opponents to a pulp.

Rest in peace, all of these things. Of course, everything is cyclic and this will all come back into vogue when 2018 becomes retro again. Until 2048, mourn the passing of everything I’ve mentioned. Sure, our parents may have killed swing music and sexual decency, and Baby Boomers may have killed the economy, but we grew up with the internet, so we’re all scum.

Marlese Lessing is the news editor for The Daily Campus. She can be reached via email at She tweets @marlese_lessing.

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