Oooh, you done pissed off mom and dad, you guys …

A note from your parents…

As a generation, you millennials have fucked up just about everything that was good and pure about this country. Television, movies, music — all ruined now that millennials are in charge of determining what’s “cool.”

And don’t even get us started with this Facebook nonsense! (Actually, can someone show us how to share a photo on our timeline real quick?) You know what sticks in our craw the most, though? It's what all you smart phone minions have done to music. Back in our day, music meant something. Music was about more than partying and rump-shaking — it was ART! And now it’s all ruined, thanks to you and your music pods. As parents, we feel it’s necessary to show everyone just how much you little pricks have destroyed music. We’ve detailed the worst offenses here.

You killed albums …

When we were your age, we had to walk all the way to the record store and buy an album — even if we just wanted one song from it. Why do you think we have all those Fleetwood Mac albums lying around?

Once we had our records, we actually listened to them from start to finish, because that’s how the artist intended it to be heard. We didn’t have the luxury of skipping and shuffling and picking whatever song we wanted; we had to listen to the whole damn thing, even if it was mostly crap.

Now it’s SoundCloud this and Spotify that. Artists don’t even bother making albums anymore because no one can pay attention long enough to listen to a full record anyway. Congratulations, millennials, you’ve destroyed entire mediums of music in your pursuit of instant gratification.

Dancing is done for …

You know how we used to get the attention of an attractive partner? We would ask politely to share a dance, and then we would foxtrot the night away until we were dry-humping in the back of a Buick somewhere. It doesn’t work like that anymore. Now it’s all about Tinder-twerking and Grindr-grinding genitals on one another — where’s the romance in that, huh?

You know how we used to squash our beefs? That’s right, we fucking danced! Ever see “Saturday Night Fever”? (Of course you haven’t.) Dancing used to get shit done. If you had a problem with someone, you didn’t fight them; you broke out your polyester and your platforms and did battle on the dancefloor. Those were the days — none of this willy-nilly popping and locking and stomping the yard or whatever you call it.

It's only about partying and drugs …

Before you throw it in our faces — yes, we were at Woodstock, but we were there for a reason, man. We were there to show the world that we could do stuff, man. We just happened to get high on LSD the whole time. But we changed things, man. And once disco came around, we were in it for the dancing. We just sniffed cocaine all the time to boost our energy and look like a mob boss. You go-hards these days just want to get fucked up enough to forget that you’re listening to a guy on his laptop. Popping sandra, or molly, or whatever, and sweating — not sure what it means, but it sounds disgusting! And is it too much to ask to not smoke weed at every concert ever? Sure, Nora Jones at Red Rocks is boring, but your reefer smoke is aggravating our emphysema from all those unfiltered cigarettes we used to smoke when it was considered healthy.

Sex. Sex everywhere …

Back in our day, we liked sexuality as a sort of side dish to our music, not the main course. Sure we enjoyed a shirtless Robert Plant showing a tuft of fur coming up from that glorious trouser snake of his, but that’s where we drew the line. We liked our female musicians like we liked our nuns — covered up. Nowadays, there are boobs and butts bouncing every which way, and frankly, it’s sinful. Whether it’s Nikki Minaj shaking her rear at every turn or all of these rap videos with the six-pack abs and the voluptuous ladies — you millennials just can’t keep it in your pants, can you? I guess artists these days need some kind of gimmick to cover up their glaring lack of talent — heck that’s what KISS did.

So that’s it. We’re not mad — just disappointed. Just remember that we’re only saying this because we love you and we’re concerned about the choices you’ve been making.