04 July, 2025

They Didn’t Sell Out, They Had Kids


On Priorities, Adulthood, and the Quiet Death of Ideals


I. The Quote and the Crux

“What happened to all the hippies?
They fucked, they had kids, they had to get jobs, and that was the end of it.”

That’s it. That’s the whole damn story. Put it on a T-shirt, print it on a gravestone, teach it in school.

That sentence - some say it was George Carlin, others just nod and say “yep, sounds like him” - captures, in one breath, what ten documentaries and a thousand think-pieces haven’t dared to say:

The revolution didn’t die in a hail of bullets. It died in a minivan, outside a supermarket, somewhere between football practice and divorce court.

And no, it wasn’t a betrayal. It was logistics.

You want to know what kills youthful rebellion? Not riot cops. Not propaganda.
Cribs, mortgages, and grocery bills.

It wasn’t about selling out. It was about budgeting effort.


II. Priorities: The Quiet Puppeteers

Here’s the secret nobody wants to admit:
People aren’t driven by ideals. They’re driven by whatever they can’t afford to ignore.

That’s it. That’s the machine. That’s how the system wins: by waiting.

When you're young and broke but unburdened, ideals are cheap and easy to carry. Marching in the streets? No problem. You don’t own anything worth losing.
But once the rent is due, once the kid’s got a fever, once your mom needs a home nurse and your job’s dangling by a thread, you don’t have the luxury of changing the world. You’re too busy trying to survive it.

Priorities are the hidden riverbed beneath the flood.
They shape the flow: quietly, invisibly, and with far more permanence than emotion ever could.

You don’t choose priorities.
They emerge, hard and sudden, like rocks underfoot.

And when they do, all that beautiful idealism gets demoted. Not deleted, just pushed out of the driver’s seat and into the glove compartment.


III. It’s Not Betrayal, It’s Arithmetic

You didn’t flip sides. You didn’t “lose your fire.”
You just did the math.

You realized that marching gets you a photo op. A steady job gets you heat in winter.

You used to shout, “No justice, no peace!”
Now you say, “Let’s talk about this after bedtime.”

And the system doesn’t even have to fight you for it. It just... waits.
Because it knows the algorithm:

Most people don’t betray their former selves, they just recalculate.

“I still hate capitalism,” you mumble from behind your ergonomic office chair.
“I still believe in environmental justice,” you say, sipping from a single-use coffee cup in your car that burns unleaded dreams.

It’s not hypocrisy, it’s survival math.

Maslow had it right: self-actualization is great, but try doing yoga about your inner child when your actual child is screaming and your rent just went up again.


IV. A Shift, Not a Collapse

Let’s not get poetic about it. The ideals didn’t vanish.
They just got... repurposed.

The rebel becomes the teacher. The protester becomes the donor. The anarchist becomes the guy who posts angry Facebook comments from a recliner.

The hippies didn’t vanish, they metabolized into the system.

They stopped shouting and started whispering.
They traded barricades for booster seats.
And slowly, the sharp corners of conviction got sanded down by fatigue, paperwork, and PTA meetings.

Sure, some of them still care.
They vote. They grumble.
They tell their kids not to become cops or CEOs.

But they also pay taxes, buy life insurance, and quietly hope their kid does become a lawyer because somebody in the family needs a steady job.

The fire’s still there.
It’s just burning under layers of convenience and shame.


V. So What Now?

Here’s the ugly question you don’t want to ask:

What happens to ideals when they’re no longer top priority?

Do they hibernate? Do they evolve?
Or do they quietly rot under the weight of daily bullshit?

Maybe they just become a vibe. A vague flavor.
Something you remember fondly, like your old band or your first protest march.
“Ah yes, I once cared deeply about social justice. Now I have plantar fasciitis and a timeshare in Mallorca.”

And before you ask - no, this isn’t an insult.

This is biology meets bureaucracy.

It’s how the world works. It’s how you work.

You don’t have to convince people to stop caring.
You just have to make caring expensive.


VI. A Final, Bitter Thought

You thought the system would fight you? No, my friend.
It doesn’t need to lift a finger.

The system doesn’t kill rebellion, it waits for it to grow up.

It has time. You don’t.

It knows you’ll age. It knows you’ll soften.
It knows you’ll look at your exhausted face in the bathroom mirror and whisper,
“I just don’t have the energy anymore.”

It doesn’t crush your ideals.
It buries them under forms, fees, diapers, deadlines, and just enough comfort to make discomfort seem reckless.

And one day, your child will come home from school, fire in their eyes, full of rage and dreams and revolution.
And you’ll smile and nod.

And you’ll say, “I used to feel the same way.”

And then you’ll ask if they remembered to turn off the lights.

Because electricity isn’t free. Not anymore.

 

Outro: You Weren’t Broken, You Were Reprogrammed

You didn’t sell out. You didn’t give up.
You just stopped being able to afford your own ideals.

The world didn’t ask you to abandon them. It just kept adding weight until your hands were too full to carry anything but the bare minimum: bills, kids, your own exhaustion.

And slowly, so slowly you didn’t even notice, you started to mistake survival for wisdom.
You started calling cynicism “realism.”
You started calling compromise “balance.”
You started calling the death of your fire “maturity.”

Let’s be honest now.

People aren’t driven by ideals.
They’re driven by whatever they can’t afford to ignore.

And the system knows exactly what you can’t afford to ignore.
That’s why it wins.

You didn’t lose the fight, you were trained out of it.

And the worst part?
Now you’re one of the voices telling the next generation to “be realistic.”
To “think long-term.” To “pick their battles.”

They will. Eventually.
Just like you did.

Because this isn’t a betrayal. It’s a cycle.
It’s the quiet, relentless hum of a machine that doesn’t crush rebellion, it bills it monthly, until it overdrafts and cancels itself.

And the revolution? It’s still out there.

But it doesn’t need to be silenced.
Just delayed long enough for everyone to grow up.

 

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