IT WAS ABOUT TIME THAT someone indicted mainstream media for its romanticization of everyone under the age of 30 as being a directionless, angst-ridden, self- pitying slug (“Generation X-asperated,” The District Line, 3/10). While I must confess that I didn’t read Walt Harrington’s Washington Post Magazine essay (I try to avoid wholly inconsequential journalism), one only needs to turn on MTV or read Rolling Stone or watch any show on Fox to get the picture that the twentysomethings of the ’90s are a group of amoral, hedonistic brats.

I honestly don’t know many people that fit the Generation X stereotype. Most of my friends, like Pedro Ponce’s, are too busy working at the things that interest us as paralegals, congressional staffers, or whatever to worry about such trivial things as what kind of cars Grateful Dead fans drive.

I presume that there are some Generation X twits out there who have no idea what they are going to do with their lives. I’m just glad that I don’t know any.

Georgetown