SEX. Oh, yes. SEX. However you like it—dirty, sloppy, wet, or even furry—in this country, we have it for you. It’s projected from movie reels, it flickers across the boob tube, and it drips from Rihanna’s golden umbrella.
And let’s face it: sex is a good reason to do just about anything. Perverts will go to jail for it. Men will go to a Britney Spears concert for it . Women will dress like Britney Spears for it. Congressmen will tap dance in toilet stalls for it. And many small rodents have died because of it. Yes, sex is pretty damn important to Generation X. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have stayed up all those lonely teen nights humping our pillows. We definitely think about it a lot more than our parents do—at least we hope so.
But as the most important demographic to marketing, our generation doesn’t get enough credit. As it stands, the foremost marketing tactic to reach young adults is sex—but for our pop culture intake, we deserve a little bit more. We need something extra, a little produce, to go with our sex. Don’t get us wrong; we superman hoes with the best of ’em, we just need more substance in our music, movies and television.
Take, for instance, Kate Walsh. Her status as Hollywood’s sexiest redhead doesn’t even make ‘Private Practice’ worth an hour of our week. The same is true of Nicole Scherzinger, the stunningly sexy lead singer from the Pussycat Dolls. Her debut solo album was originally scheduled for an October 2007 release, but has since been postponed indefinitely because no one showed interest in either of its first two singles. The CD—titled Her Name is Nicole—is now listed on Amazon.com with the release date of December 31, 2020. (Pre-order now!)
We even see this trend in movies, a medium notorious for sexy shots and sexier starlets. On the list of all-time box office bestsellers, however, only two of the top fifty films have a sex scene—Titanic and Forrest Gump. Clearly, the generation known for getting pregnant before it can drive (here’s to you, Jamie Lynn) must have something more than macking on its mind.
The problem, then, is that the youth generation has nowhere to share its true critical opinion. Instead, society dons Roger Ebert—chubby, white and born before WWII—the king of movie reviews. His thumbs are worth millions. But when he calls ‘Juno’ the movie of the year, like we do, through what lens is he interpreting it? Whose twentysomething phalanges are worth millions?
That said, we’ve never agreed with the people around us who insist that they never listen to critics. More often than not, the critics are right on, and sometimes we agree with them. But they have inherent weaknesses, if only because newspaper and magazine editors only employ old men who’ve seen 10,000 movies or listened to 100,000 songs. At very least, these Siskels and Eberts of the world have lost touch with the generation Hollywood is most often trying to reach.
So as a result, the media continues to inundate Gen X with more sex than an R. Kelly album. (Though not nearly as much urine.) And if that means more Jenna Fischer in movies like Blades of Glory and Walk Hard, we’re fine with it. But occasionally, give us some credit: we need a little more. Here at Wet Hot American Produce, the three of us—admittedly early twenties, college-educated white guys—will search for the best of America’s pop culture produce while we search for sex at the bars.