My dear Gen Alpha child,
Sit down for a moment, plea. Not that you can sit still without a vertical-scrolling feed, but please try.
As an older Millennial “uncle” (Colombo kind, not Biological kind) whose cultural relevance peaked well before you were born, I have a question for you.
What is “six-seven”?
Is it a height? A police code? A latitude in Panadura?
Or is it, as I suspect, the first truly successful attempt by your generation to weaponise pure, unadulterated confusion?
Special Broadcast for Older Readers
(For the Boomers and Gen X-ers peeping over my shoulder)
The “6–7” (pronounced six-seven) is a viral internet phenomenon where kids yell those two numbers while doing a specific hand gesture: palms up, moving up and down like they’re weighing two invisible papaws.
It originated from a drill rap song called “Doot Doot (6 7)” by an artist named Skrilla (a gentleman from Philadelphia whose lyrics are mostly about things your grandmother would call “sin”).
It then blew up because of LaMelo Ball (an American basketball player who is coincidentally 6’7’’ tall) and a child named Maverick Trevillian who yells it several times per day.
The Numerical Void
When the gentleman Skrilla first rapped those digits, did he know he was providing the mantra for a new age of Nihilism? If a child shouts “6–7” in a classroom and no one is there to record it for a “brain rot” compilation, do the numbers actually exist?
Because we Millennials were obsessed with meaning.
When we shared a meme, it was a reference. It was a “shorthand for a shared emotion.” We had “Advice Animals” that gave actual advice (mostly bad). We had “Keep Calm and Carry On” (mostly annoying).
But you? You have bypassed the “signified” entirely.
You have reached the “Six-Seven” state of grace where the signifier, the number, simply floats in the digital ether, unburdened by the heavy manacles of logic.
The Liturgy of the Number
I watched a video of the child Maverick Trevillian. He moves his hands up and down like he’s trying to pat a very tall, invisible dog. It is hypnotic. It is rhythmic. It is, frankly, terrifying.
But is this the new Socratic Method?
Instead of asking “What is justice?” you simply ask “What is 6–7?”
And when the interlocutor fails to provide a hand gesture, you declare them “cooked.”
Consider the audacity of Dictionary.com naming “67” the Word of the Year for 2025.
A word that is actually two numbers, which together mean nothing, yet somehow “spreads and connects people.” It’s the ultimate prank on the English language. It’s like the universe got a “67%” on its final exam and decided to celebrate the middling grade.
The Great Leveller
I find a strange, weary comfort in seeing the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom apologize for doing the 6–7 gesture. Or seeing a U.S. Vice President jokingly call for a constitutional amendment to ban the numbers.
For the first time in history, the gap between the playground and the Parliament has been bridged by a drill rap beat and a hand-shaking meme.
Is this not what the ancient sages dreamed of? A universal language?
Granted, they probably hoped it would involve “The Good” or “The Beautiful,” not a nonsensical numerical sequence associated with LaMelo Ball and 67-cent wings at Pizza Hut.
The Millennials Last Lament
But I suppose I’m just jealous.
My generation’s memes were too “try-hard.” We wanted to be clever. We wanted to be special. We wanted to succeed. But you just want to be loud. You’ve realised that in a world of infinite information, the only way to stand out is to offer zero information.
So, I will leave you with this: If 6–7 is the answer, what was the question?
Was it “How many seconds of attention span do I have left?” or “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much has the internet actually rotted our collective brains?”
Whatever it is, don’t tell me.
Because I’m an older Millennial.
I’ll just be over here, reading a book, or working, or just being bored (I know these words are meaningless to you).
Because truly, we are all 6–7 now.
oot, doot!
