There's this kid named Sean Aiken who is doing a different job every week for a year, Times workplace ponderer Lisa Belkin writes. "In the spirit of his generation — the one that brought us extreme sports, and made a mini celebrity out of a blogger who traded a paper clip for a house, and a mega celebrity out of a socialite who went on reality TV to move from job to job in 'The Simple Life' — Mr. Aiken has begun a most unusual search." Digest that for a moment, millennials: you are responsible for not only Paris Hilton and One Red Paperclip, but also extreme sports. Also, when it comes to the future of your employment, you are as fucked as a base-jumper without a chute.

It turns out that Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine" is the voice of my generation. It narrates the 20th century's transition from optimism to disillusion, beginning with some dude's poetic idealization of his girlfriend, and dissolving amidst the sound and fury of encroaching insignificance. It's like taking your date to the malt shop and winding up in a tomb.