Now that my own children are grown and there’s nothing I can do about them, it’s time to start worrying about the next generation.

After all, they’re the ones who are going to find me in my single room buried under mouldy Starbucks venti lattes and ship me off to the state geezer preserve.

And if what they’re up to right now is any indication, I have no reason to expect compassion.

I started thinking about the next generation after hearing that Judy Blume’s novels are about to be turned into ebooks. And publishers are worried that today’s kids, raised on a steady diet of vampires, human sacrifice and Grand Theft Auto, will find her books bland and boring.

This was once the most banned author in North America, whose most banned book (Forever) opened with the following line: “Sybil Davison has a genius I.Q. and has been laid by at least six different guys.”

That got you banned in 1975, but these days it’s so tame that even the censors can’t work up enough jam to read it, even if they can download it instantly.

These days, you have to add blood and sacrifice for kids to stop sexting and virtually stoning each other on Am I Ugly and read instead. The average teenager sends 60 text messages a day and spends more than seven hours a day “using” media, 80 per cent of it social media.

When Judy Blume was freaking out parents and librarians, there was no Internet. You had to look into a mirror to find out if you were ugly. Now you post a photo on the Internet and let the world have its way with you.

So what are we raising? Pretty little bloodthirsty, depraved, techno-robotic, Borg-minded, crypto-fascist, superstitious sociopaths? Maybe.

At least they can help you unlock your cellphone.

When my kids were young, the biggest threat to their mental health was V.C. Andrews, who dealt in incest and various forms of abuse. Plus she was a terrible writer. By comparison, Judy Blume was Shakespeare. Of course, nobody reads him anymore either, not as long as we have Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games) or Stephanie Meyer (Twilight).

Today, “writing” is a kind of delivery mechanism, like a syringe or a hand-held rocket launcher. Ideas are no longer than 140 characters and something gets killed at the end.

For those who still remember, it’s like Brave New World meets Lord of the Flies.

With zombies.