There were also some famous friends, like punk lady photographer Richard Kern, and a kombucha-drinking semen-selling film director we won't name because he'd "lost his confidence in his own image," and of course Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore, too. It was all so very adorable and self-conscious, and a band half my age stole the show.

Jemina Pearl and Thurston Moore. Their last notable collaboration was a cover of The Ramones' "Sheena Is A Punk Rocker" for little Jenny Humphrey's guerilla fashion show on Gossip Girl. Hardcore, yes, but he laughed so we know he knows it's ridiculous! Jemina, formerly of Be Your Own Pet, told the story of the battle she just got into with "some French African guys — they were African, but speaking French" the night before. "I got beat down to the ground!" she said! Smiling! "You're too cool for that shit," assured Thurston.

We have additional Thurston Moores available to take your call right now.

Ada, 13, with "just a Coke!" her friend assured, as mom (in stripes, cutie glasses) looks on. Her band went on about a half hour later.

Richard Kern and Michael Lavine. Kern was all shy about going off to shoot very willing naked ladies in seven cities. It's for a European cable show in a sure to be messy collaboration with Vice. Lavine, who shot a (clothed) Sonic Youth back in the day, was way more bouncy about his photo book "Grunge" coming out in the Fall — doing nothing to dispel the notion that the 90's are dead dead dead to us, yes, but unlike some people, he was basically there.

Ada and her brother Ivan are: Tiny Masters of Today.

Don't ask Ada about her braces. She's also big in Japan.

Steve Shelley, drummer, Sonic Youth.

Nadia Koch and Kristin Vincent, of Home Sweet Home.

Peace. Plaid. Whatever.

Jemina with Brynne, revolution girl style (very tiny brass knuckles).

Ivan. However cute, it was a rock show.

With rock show love.

And a couch where you could crash, homosexually.

Jamie Peck and Matt Harvey, New York Press. [If we were Sassy, this would be in a little squash-fonted sidebar down the bottom of the page — Matt sassed me for not id'ing him in a photo at some bougie rooftop party. Here, he rocks his indie cred. Are we good now, Matt?]

Leanne Marshall, indie goddess winner of 2008's Project Runway, has earned her right to that scarf.

If we were Raygun: "the future of rock?" but because we are not: "the future knows anything we write over their band photo is lies, so what, let's let them just Twitter it."

Kim Gordon. She came in flanked by two girl-pixies who made it seem just horrible to get too close. (Should I ever need security, I will so go that route.) When I asked her what she thought of the crazy age-mixed-up crowd, she said you all looked fantastic.

The lesson and the lede is that there's no quicker way to felch the sentiment and nostalgia out of something than to sit and watch six people at a table intellectualize the bone marrow out of it. The panel's lineup was kind of like The Real World as cast by a Kicking and Screaming-era Noah Baumbach: former Gawker blogger Emily Gould, Nirvana scholar and Come As You Are author Michael Azerrad, n+1 film critic A. S. Hamrah, Sassy magazine scholar and the table's riotgrrl expert, Marisa Meltzer, and moderator Mark Grief, an n+1 co-editor and literary shaman. Oh! I'm forgetting someone. From the press release: "Aaron Lake Smith makes a series of fanzines called Big Hands that have been described as "an ongoing treatise on disappointment."" Aaron, 25, was dressed in a red flannel shirt. He was not being ironic, and it actually appeared to be a nice shirt, though he probably hates it.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser. Aaron Lake Smith tried to remember his roots.

The room was fairly packed, and they got going at about 7:10 p.m. I'd brought a bottle of Diet Coke and Rum to mix in my seat, but this proved to be relatively difficult, as most of the people around us were actually listening pretty intently on what the panel had to say. I put down the sauce and picked up some old bills and started to write on them. I took the following notes: The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.

Azerrad's opening shot is something about Nirvana. Him and (Aaron Rose Smith) talked about 9/11 as the end of the 90s. The 90s ended a year after the 90s ended? Gould is quiet. Smith said parties were better in the 90s, but he was 15! Huffing glue is no longer socially acceptable, that's why. Term "cultural touchstones" has now been used seven times. Hamrah comes in with Anita Hill! Hamrah also noted that Winona Ryder shoplifting was the end of the 90s, nobody can tell if he's joking even after he says he's joking. 90s of light, 90s of darkness? Glee vs. Malaise? Heard these terms seven more times. Meltzer: Riot grrl, Riot grrl, Riot grrl, Riot grrl, something about Sassy. Makes a salient point that it was cooler to be a lesbian in the 90s. Emily looks bored. Azerrad is still talking about Nirvana. Sleepy. No phone service; intentional? Are they blocking me? This is My Dinner With Andre meets I Love The 90's. Except they're now talking about I Love The 90s, and the difference they fail to point out is that VH1 actually tries. Meta. Pop culture intellectualizing as sedative, falling asleep. Emily talking about Drudge breaking Lewinsky "stained dress" thing and I wake up. Hipster says 90s discussions were more interesting and I'm starting to believe him. Collectively, they're not so bad, taken apart, I feel like they're lobotomizing me. Mark Grief predictably tells everyone how wrong they are.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Michael Azerrad was the George Martin of Citizen Dick.

I stopped taking notes sometime around when they were discussing the "imminent failure of rap rock as evidenced by the Judgment Night soundtrack," because that about encapsulates the entire thing. But two more decent things happened.

1. Emily Gould was asked something by a girl in the second row what it's like to journal and chronicle one's life on the internet, and she somehow tied it back into the 90s. Not so interesting was the line of inquiry or the answer Gould gave so much as the confusing, ridiculous way she tried to make it relevant to the topic. Gould looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and sheer confusion, and I'm pretty sure Azerrad answered for her with something about Nirvana.

2. Marisa Meltzer and A.S. Hamrah, who was the panel's oldest and crankiest (thus: funniest) member got into it over Meltzer's reason for existence, Sassy magazine. I have no idea how they got there, but Hamrah basically called it a sham, noting that it was a magazine written by 24 year-olds, for 24 year-olds. Meltzer looked like she was about to punch Hamrah in the face, and noted that no, it was written for 16 year-olds. Like her. Hamrah then argued that, if that was the case, it was written by a bunch of 24 year-olds who thought they knew what 16 year-olds would be into, which was ostensibly the directive of all teen magazines, but really, just 24 year-olds impressing their own tastes, beliefs, and style onto impressionable 16 year-olds. Like Meltzer. He kept laying into her: "You want to know what 16 year-olds enjoy? Use a focus group." The kid in the flannel shirt then noted that he's lied several times during focus groups.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser. Marissa Meltzer used to be a rebel. Now she writes for the New York Times. And Slate.

Sure, there was other stuff - my highlight was Smith talking about how he's roamed from globalization protest to globalization protest, even though nobody else thought that was funny - but you get the idea: intelligent people asserting their intelligence in a dumb game of one-upsmanship is no smarter nor enlightening than an episode of Best Week Ever, and I'd take the Best Week Ever over this any day.

The person I brought with me - who, incidentally, wouldn't let me leave early - noted that they were too busy indulging in their own nonsense (the independent, the "cool," the "cultural touchstones" nobody actually gave a shit about) to not miss a bunch of things that would've helped make the night interesting. Among them: "Rollerblading, Dave Matthews Band, Beavis and Butthead, Carl Lewis, The Rachel hairstyle, The Hale-Bopp comet, HIV/AIDS." Might I add to that list: Counting Crows, the advent of TR:L, Gin Blossoms, Can't Hardly Wait (Aaron Smith, I'm looking at you), Michael Jordan, John Grisham. Another attendee thought Emily was pretty funny, and so did I. She looked relatively incredulous at even being there. Understandably.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Emily Gould wanted to say something about hooking up to "Say Goodbye" in college, but politely declined. Mark Grief would enjoy this song if he heard it several times.

We filed out, and I didn't have any higher a score at Flight Control than when we walked in, sadly. At a bar afterwards, someone noted that having a panel discussion was almost, in it of itself, a very 90s thing to do. And after I was politely asked to leave said bar for mixing my own drink (the aforementioned previous failure of a mixology experiment), the same person noted how 90s that was. He was right: the psudeo-coffee-shop intellectualizing of something that could probably make for an entertaining conversation is as outdated as it is disenchanting and utterly annoying. And I was so, so relieved that we live when we do.

Ms. Harding is one of the saddest scandal celebrities of the miserable Clinton era, which is saying something, and despite the fact that her name has been a punchline for fifteen years, she still is all "I didn't come here to make friends you don't know me" about a passing jokey reference to the time she had a rival skater kneecapped.

But she does thank the president for reminding people who she is. Larry Summers, Eric Holder, and now Tanya Harding—is there any Clinton-era relic Mr. "Change" won't dust off and sell to the American people?

You remember how software-maker Microsoft bizarrely enlisted the sitcom star to promote its deeply troubled Vista operating system? The response was, uh, overwhelming . So overwhelming that Microsoft cancelled the campaign.

Now Silverman hopes Seinfeld can reverse NBC's fortunes. Silverman's past glorious successes include two cancelled shows, handing five hours of primetime to Jay Leno and not getting fired, yet. So it probably shouldn't come as a surprise that Silverman is stoked Seinfeld is going to riff on how insane married life is. I mean seriously, what's the deal with men and not putting down the toilet seat?? And ladies, what's with the bathroom hogging? What are you doing in there?

"Some of the greatest comedies in the history of television have been around marriages," Silverman said. "The concept is so universal and accessible, and obviously it works so well when it comes from somebody with a point of view — and nobody has a stronger point of view on this subject than Seinfeld."

That's right: No one feels more strongly about marriage than Seinfeld. Not Chris Rock, not the late Sam Kinison — no one.

Now NBC just has to learn how strongly America feels about its divorce from the comedian 11 years ago.

For a taste of how Seinfeld's humor has aged, take a look at the clip above, culled from Conan O'Brien's second-to-last Late Night. The comedian riffs on furniture. (Silverman would have been impressed; he's quite the laugher.)

(UPDATE: Added Late Night video.)

The documentary—produced by the gay ex-husband of popular 90s conservative pundit Arianna Huffington—is premiering at SXSW in Austin. The Real World: Austin might have taken place in 2005, but Austin was so 90s, as proved by the Austin-set 90s cult film Slacker.

Bisexuality was an evergreen topic for the MTV soft news documentary, Sex In The 90s. Based on the trailer (and their "100 girls making out" street promotion), this new movie's interpretation of bisexuality — that bi girls are straight girls making out with other straight girls to titillate men, and bi guys are gays who won't come out — is also very, very 90s.

The never ending primary election is asking us, as Americans, whether we want the 90s to come back. Nothing, save the resurrection of Kurt Cobain, is more 90s than Bill Clinton in the White House.

So if Hillary Clinton beats Barack Obama and wins in November, does that mean pagers will become the ultimate ironic hipster accessory? Beep me, dude! Or don't. I actually much prefer the 00s and cell phones.