Forget for a moment pierced navels and Eddie Vedder. These unifying symbols of our generation are trivial and insignificant, not to mention few and far between.

As members of what has been hyped as Generation X, we're tatooed on much more damaging places than our ankles. As Hester Prynne stands with her scarlet letter, we too stand by idly and carry the generational scar of X-hood like it's a big, black hole sucking up our economic futures and scarring us with self-defeating cyncism.

The people controlling the means of production in our society (lawmakers and corporate capitalists) think we're too polarized to do anything about our futures. But we're not. At least not when 86 percent of students on campus didn't vote in the last local elections. And that's not because we're too lazy or grunged out to get to the voting booth.

We've got our pessimism, our anger, our college degrees and $5 an hour earning potentials to unify us. But by 2029, when most of us are 52 to 56 years old, there's one thing we won't have -- Social Security checks.

Sure, it's hard to imagine popping in the dentures, slapping on the Ben Gay and going for the mailbox at the beginning of every month for that check. But it's something we should think about because the program's bankruptcy is just one of a variety of economic woes we face as the first generation of Americans not to do as well as our parents.

How many of your friends who recently graduated have jobs they can support themselves on? The statistics say far too few. On top of the 8 to 11 percent unemployment we face entering the work world, another 22 percent of employed people have part-time or temporary jobs. So the way I see it, that makes the real unemployment figure something like 30 percent. And 12 percent of people 25 to 34 years old are still living at home with mommy and daddy.

A poll surveying Generation X-ers in 1993 found us almost twice as likely to believe in UFOs than to believe that Social Security will be around for us when we get old.

But maybe the program won't shrivel up and die. The Social Security system almost went broke once before, so Congress fixed up a quick reform package in 1983. It was supposed to be solvent for 75 years, but the Congressional Budget Office found that that's not the case, as benefit cuts and tax hikes just haven't done the trick.

Due to new medical technologies, our grandparents are living longer than ever before. Our baby-boomer parents are likely to retire at the same age as our grandparents (the average is about 62) and live even longer. Still, they won't get out what they put into the system. The average American man who retired in 1980 will get about $40,000 more out than he put in, while our parents will suffer a net loss of $38,000. And us? We stand to lose more than $62,000.

The bright side is that while our futures are going to hell, our grandparents have lots of time to weave us a nice, big handbasket.

But Social Security serves to suck the pockets of the poor and fatten the pockets of the rich even for the elderly who are making out good on the deal. For example, an elderly woman who never worked a day in her life gets half of what her husband gets, on top of his check.

A woman who worked for low wages her whole life could get less, even though both women performed the same service to society by raising children. And elderly people who are fabulously wealthy get big, fat Social Security checks they really don't need.

Yes, we are trapped in a downwardly spiraling economy, but we should be demanding some generational justice. While money-grubbing grannies with cushy pensions and savings are living it up on money they never put into the system, 14-year-olds are slinging burgers at Mickey D's after school; 14-, 15-, 16-, and 17-year-olds who don't have a right to vote, by the way.

The last time I checked, taxation without representation was unconstitutional. So I wonder why we Generation X-ers don't take a lesson from our forefathers and throw a modern-day version of the Boston Tea Party -- like maybe a burger party?

I can see it now. The dishwasher in the back would recite his master's thesis in philosophy while spinning dishes on tops of mop handles. The pre-pubescent, acne-stained teen working the grill could throw boxes of pre-made frozen patties on the floor that the recent college graduate/janitor just refused to clean. Generation-Xer journalists could cover the event for papers that pay them $7 an hour if their house/cars make it there. Conceivably, we could have a total generational revolution that would make even Beavis and Butthead proud. But we won't, and I'll tell you why.

It's because the phrase realism = cynicism has become a cliche, and sadly enough its self-defeatest tone unifies us much more than fast food or pierced navels or Eddie Vedder ever could.