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Mom, can I get a Ty, he called from the bedroom. A what? I asked her. A Tylenol, she scoffed and looked at me like I was an idiot. “You don’t know what a Tylenol is?” “Your momma doesn’t know what a Tylenol is,” I shot back. Your Momma is my response to a lot of things said in my general direction and yelled at bad drivers. I’m trying to control the flow of F-bombs and resorted to just mean mouthing their moms. But we needed a Ty or two today after a long weekend of travel baseball. While I’m busy disparaging various mothers, this next Gen, are they Gen Z at 11/12 now, are just shortening the words. Our words. They should be called the Bruh generation, because that’s all we hear, almost all the time. Hooked to the headsets and playing Madden or Fortnite with the gang, it’s just one Bruh after the other. Using it as noun, verb, adjective and curse word. Much like I use/did use the F wor
