Time for fat, balding media men to go back to work and coin a new phrase, a new generation.

What? Generation Y?

Well, in any case, move over Generation X. A few 20-somethings had a rough time trying to look credible, and before I knew it, Barbara Walters was shaking her head at those slackers. Bad reputations spread like wildfire and I feel sorry for those stuck with a variable as a moniker.

The child of the 80's is growing up. You know, the group too young to be included into Generation X, but old enough to feel relieved about being anonymous i.e., left alone for now by Tom, Peter, and Dan. Pepsi seems to have figured it out, quite literally, in fact.

Generation Next?

What are we? Part of the dyslexic Star Trek familytree? Besides, I would like to think that this generation, if it indeed exists, has more than just a propensity for wraparound shades, and seemingly boundless energy for, uh, insurrection through drinking cola. Puh-lease! At least the flower children had the 50s manicured lawns to rebel against with their peace, love, and bullshit, with a little bit of psychedelics on the side, please.

Every decade breeds its own genera(liza)tion, and the 80's didn't exactly bring much except the pomp, the excess, the American gigolo. Growing up in the 80's meant summers at Old Orchard Beach and boating excursions to Kennebunkport. I found out later that the Bushes also vacationed there, but back then, Bush was the ugly geek guy with glasses. Bill who?

Apple with its cute rainbow apple logo was the friendly one. Anyway, my parents supported Bush, up until the 90's when the "read my lips" thing went awry, but that November in '88, they were hunched over a 9-in. tv screen with a lifeless antenna, waiting for the election results, unable to vote because of their "alien" status. Speaking of "aliens," E.T. haunted my dreams as I shuddered at such a grotesque creature. He must've been Communist. Who would've known that Drew Barrymore would later mature enough to flash David Letterman.

It was okay to be a Republican, and for me, "Bush" was easier to pronounce then that Dukaw-something or other dude. Reagan was the wrinkled guy who made a two second cameo appearance in "Empire of the Sun," one of those movies my parents watched and I hated. The cold war was in full effect, as parents feared a nuclear bomb would drop on their innocent, sleeping children, but all that was cold was Northeast winters. Besides, my parents seemed more interested in that peculiar scar on Gorbachev's shiny head. But one thing was clear- even my parents agreed that Communism was bad. Footage from the Tianamen Square crackdown left us with images of punctured heads and bloodied bodies. It was a bit too much for my pre-pubescent philosophy on life.

Well, whatever, I still had Indiana Jones, flying snakes, rolling boulders, and monkey brains to keep me interested. Even Ghostbusters had its scary moments. Saturday mornings meant Hanna-Barbera cartoons and weekday afternoon meant Sesame Street. I rented Mr. Roger's Neighborhood videos and sooner or later, Sesame Street tried to go multi-cultural with "Big Bird in China." Since China, Big Bird has also made pilgrimages to Africa, India, and South America. Who knows, maybe this was the catalyst that led to globalization and whitewashed political correctness.

AIDS was still a mysterious plague that seemed like "the cooties" and we all know we can't touch someone with the cooties. Wall Street was a narrow, winding street we visited one afternoon before a more interesting stop in a noodle shop in Chinatown. No lunch crowd with expensive suits.

We had to drive ten blocks to the nearest McDonald's and I had my 8th birthday party there, with my "posse," friends who supposedly will later come to revere the words of Kurt Cobain. I never got my big Barbie dream house, but we got rubber, plastic toys with our Happy Meals. We played connect four, battleship, and hangman, and then third grade meant the a big jump to electronics. Yes, Mario brothers and Nintendo. Give me some good old-fashioned 8-bit fun! Duck Hunt was the ultimate in working off mental and physical aggression and Tetris was just plain fun.

Michael Jackson was still black and "Thriller" scared the shit outta me, and I went trick-or-treating without my mom telling me to watch out for unwrapped candy. Madonna used way too much hair spray and Marisa Tomei was on "A Different World." O.J. was in Hertz commercials and Robin Givens was the Mike Tyson's girlfriend and the star of that stupid show, "Head of the Class." I thought Boy George was a gorgeous woman.

Hawaiian Punch was much more than punch, and Handi-Snacks were to be eaten like cocktail shrimp, smearing on the cheese gently and slowly savored. Peanut butter crackers were for the social rejects and Capri Sun was only good chilled, not to mention a bad fashion statement. Dr. Pepper was good, but Coke was The Real Thing and filled with something called caffeine. Twinkies were good and spongy, but my Indian friends couldn't eat it because it had beef fat. I had the same teacher for art and science. Recess meant freeze tag. I never got to base on time.

Chocolate milk was a rarity to be cherished. Valentine's Day meant an insane number of cards with pink and red "Will you be my Valentine?" "Jingle Bells, batman smells, robin laid an egg" remained figurative. If you were cooler than cool, you were "radical" and if you were cooler than radical, you were "RAD."

Little Debbie smiled. The Kool-Aid pitcher smiled. The Pilsbury Dough Boy smiled. Snuggles smiled. People did really say no to drugs. Oxy and Clearisil sounded scary.

And then the 90's came and everyone sobered up and tried to survive the hangover. Leave me in the 80's- Donna Summers in here to stay, and we're all going to be branded soon.