Don't try to dig what we all say.

The latest post from my imaginary friend Philalawyer (in the latest sign that Western Civilization is swirling around the the great drain of irreversible decline, his book is out in paperback, btw, and is just the perfect stocking stuffer for a young child or your grandmother) -- Books You Might Enjoy Reading, Part I -- mentions one of my favorite books by one of my favorite writers: "Class" by Paul Fussell. In addition to telling Jackson that he is a High Prole by birth, "Class" indirectly gave Jackson and his ilk the moniker of Generation X.

Short version -- in his book, after his semi-serious/semi-tongue in cheek dissection of class in America, Fussell describes the new ideal class, the X class, which will drink Bud from a can while listening to Chopin on a Walkman after having sex in the afternoon. (I paraphrase.) In short, Fussell was talking about a group that would recognize the markers of class and the consciously disregard said markers, and pick and choose the best from each.

Fussell's paean to dope smoking at the polo match with a bong made from my grandmother's Hummel figurines reportedly inspired some Canadian dude to write a book (a book that I will re-read, now that I think about it) and thereby name my juh-juh-juh-generation.

Fussell is also a war hero who detests the glorification of combat, wrote an amazing book about WWI ("The Great War and Modern Memory"), and who (rightfully, in my opinion) defended the use of nuclear bombs to end WWII in "Thank God For The Atom Bomb."