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It’s Friday Night and I’m Home Wondering What Millennial Ghosts Are Going to Be Like
Maybe I need an intervention.
Victorians had the whole ghost thing nailed down, with their dramatic clothes and general weirdness about death. (I hold only the highest respect for weirdness, so that is not meant to seem judgy.) Those folks were weiiiirrrrrdddddd about it. If you told me they used to hold fashionable bashes where the guest of honor was an old-as-stink mummy and the party favors were what’s inside, I would believe you, because that is a true thing that really happened.
Millennials are a lot more boring. We think of death as our eventual escape from climate change, not a subject of mystical fascination. Sometimes I wonder if any of us will make ghost status at all. A ghost needs to have some flourish. It needs panache, like a mourning widow, walking along the rooftop at night, wearing a long dress, crying for her lover, and maybe holding her decapitated head in one hand. And someone else’s decapitated head in the other. And a ghostly animal friend. Perhaps a crow that squawks, “DOOM!”
Ghosts shouldn’t putter around in sweatpants groaning about how they’ll never have enough money to retire.
Would you even tell anyone if you were randomly haunted by a social media influencer, informing you of…
