Your Honour, Todd Barclay Doesn’t Represent Me

Your Honour he does not represent me

Nor does he represent my friends or

Anyone of our generation, really

Yes, Your Honour, he does look like us

Sort of

And he was born around the right time I suppose

But he’s not one of us, you see, not really

Your Honour, if I may, members of our generation

Don’t get elected to government office

In fact, we don’t run for it, or even vote for it

And when we do try, they say we are too young

Or that we haven’t lived enough, or that we don’t know what we are doing

So then how, if it pleases Your Honour, may I ask, could he represent me?

Or represent my friends, or

Anyone of our generation, really

As far as we’re concerned, he’s a bit of an anomaly.

We the millennials respectfully submit that Todd Barclay should not be tried

As one of us

If he must be tried Your Honour, perhaps he should do so either as a child

For the nubile naivety of his actions (and his mother’s public protestations)

Or otherwise perhaps held to any standard that you have

For an old, white, rich, man

Because, well, who else would own –let alone know how to operate –a dictaphone?

You see, Your Honour, we think the dictaphone is the key here.

How could he represent us, and not have something better to record with?

We’re not a malicious lot, the millennials,

But when we want to fuck someone up, we know there’s always an app for that

We know how to make messages disseminate and disappear with a single swipe,

We know how to cover our traces,

And we’ve been alive long enough to know a dictaphone

Won’t do anything we’ve listed above

We think there might be some hope for him, Your Honour,

But he’s still got a long way to go,

Before he can shed off the people he currently represents

Who will die long before my generation do