"I Want a Teenager"

Note: This is a school assignment from a couple of years ago, we had to read "I Want a Wife," a feminist satire by Judy Syfers, and then write our own similar satire. I highly recommend reading her essay, and here is what I came up with for mine.
 
I Want a Teenager
 
         I belong to that classification of people known as teenagers. I am A Teenager. And, not altogether incidentally, I am a person just like you.
 
         Teenagers get lots of bad press. They cause trouble, dress weird, and play their music at insane volumes. But not too long ago I overheard a friend of the family lamenting about how much she misses her daughter, a teenager that just moved out to attend college. She actually wishes she had her teenager back. As I thought about her one evening while I was driving far too fast and blaring rock music, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have a teenager. Why do I want a teenager?
 
         I want someone to blame for all the things that are wrong in society. I want a teenager to glare at in the mall, a teenager to mutter about on the roads, a teenager to act as a scapegoat for the rapidly declining moral standards of our culture. I want a teenager to complain about so I can keep my mind off of the fact that today’s parents might not have as much control over their offspring as they are willing to admit.
 
         I want a teenager to do menial jobs for minimum wage and absolutely no personal benefits. I want a teenager to flip my burgers. I want a teenager to mow my lawn. I want a teenager to deliver my pizza. I want a teenager to ring up my purchases at Wal-Mart. I want a teenager to wash my car. I want a teenager to do all of these things while I discuss with friends about how work ethic is on the decline. I want a teenager to watch my bratty kids while I go out in the world and do grown-up things, even though I constantly gripe about how irresponsible teenagers are. I want a teenage waitress to remember my complicated special order at a restaurant—no tomatoes, extra onions and pickles but only half the amount of cheese, two lemons slices and three packets of Sweet & Low—even though I have read all the recent reports about how, due to our poor educational system, it appears that most teenagers can’t even remember simple mathematical concepts. I want a teenager to do all of these jobs to my satisfaction while I continue to denounce them at every opportunity.
 
         I want a teenager to help support our economy. I want a teenager to keep chain clothing stores in business by investing all of her minimum wages in keeping up with the current styles. I want a teenager to foster the entertainment industry by constantly buying more CDs so that I can gripe about his booming music. I want a teenager to help support the nation’s agriculture through the huge amount of food that he will put away at every opportunity. I want teenagers to sustain the pharmaceutical industry through their massive consumption of diet pills, acne creams, birth control, and anti-depressants. I want teenagers to provide fodder for countless self-help books on how to raise teenagers.
 
         I want a teenager so that I can look at someone who is undeniably physically superior and smugly comment on how I used to look just like that—probably even better. I want a teenager to pose for magazine covers, star in movies, and produce CDs for my entertainment. I want a teenager to enlist in the military, signing a contract that dedicates a significant portion of his life to the protection of our country. I want a teenager so that I can have a victim to endure my long-winded accounts of how difficult life used to be “back in my day,” regardless of the fact that their high school has metal detectors and frequent lockdowns to weed out the homicidal maniacs that strike with increasing frequency, despite the fact that peer pressure to do drugs and have sex is at an all time high, despite the fact that today’s world faces imminent depletion of resources and explosive political unrest between countries that are armed to the teeth with nuclear weapons.
 
         I want a teenager to vent on when I am in a bad mood. Forget the fact that their roller coaster hormones make them miserable to begin with, when I’ve had a bad day there is no easier person to blame it on. Yelling at teenagers is a fact of life, what family centered TV show or movie does not depict the sulky teenager being chewed out by ever righteous parents? I can reprimand her for not acting adult enough and simultaneously treat her like a child. A teenager is the perfect target when one needs to release anger.
 
         If I had a teenager, my life would be so much easier. A teenager could bear the blame for the deteriorating state of our society, and I could keep piling on blame and discrimination and general repulsion while wondering why that particular segment of our population seems so unstable. Today’s ephebiphobic society loves nothing more than playing a game of “Complain about the Teens,” and why not? Everyone would love to have such a handy person to take for granted and blame for the slightest problems.
 
         Who wouldn’t want a teenager?