Monday, March 28, 2011

Old People: What Are They Good For?

I took my kids to the dentist the other day. He’s located in a medical office building near Leisure World (or Seizure World as I like to call it) - a huge retirement community in South Orange County. The place was absolutely crawling with old people. Walkers, wheel chairs, oxygen tanks, yucky old person smell, the whole nine yards. We somehow managed to navigate our way through the crowded lobby full of decrepit imbeciles (save your occasional attractive pharmaceutical sales rep dotted here and there) and proceeded to get stuck in a huddled elevator with another half dozen old farts. We mouth breathed our way through the first 3 floors and finally arrived at floor number 4 only to be greeted by 3 more old geezers who bum-rushed the elevator doors before we’d even made an attempt to get off (Hello – elevator etiquette grampa: you don’t get in until I’ve gotten out - why do I even need to say this?). Same story after we finished up with the appointment and made our escape from the building – wall to wall old people as far as the eye could see. It was like being stuck in a building-shaped sardine can full of urine-soaked crypt keepers. I think some old person stink might have even rubbed off on us as I could still smell them on the drive home. Which (wait for it) got me thinking…

When you arrive at those final years of your life (like an expired carton of milk waiting to be thrown out) what’s the f*cking point? You’re barely mobile, you feel like shit all the time, you’re a burden to everyone around you, and you stink. When I get old I swear I’m going “Thelma and Louise” off the side of a f*cking mountain to save my family the trouble. Which is probably why I never feel guilty after smoking a cigar, drinking too much, eating a piece of bacon, or doing anything that will generally shorten my life expectancy. What do I care if I trim off a few months here and there? It’s the months at the end I’m eliminating and those are the shitty ones anyway, right? It’s been a while since I’ve waxed poetic on this blog and I think it’s long overdue. What follows is my “Ode To An Old Fart”:

Warning: if you’re north of 75 years old you might want to stop reading at this point. On the other hand old people love to complain about shit and this will definitely give you something to complain about.  So enjoy it.

Ode To An Old Fart

“Look up to your elders and pay them respect”
With certain exceptions I must boldly object

For it’s tough to admire, hold you in regard
When you piss in your pants, get lost in the yard

You’re wrinkled and tired, your ears are too big
You insist on a comb over, should wear a wig

You drive like an asshole, eat dinner at three
Shit in a diaper, need glasses to see

You say cell phones are stupid, the internet is a scam
You’re stubborn and racist, you don’t give a damn

When reading my blog you’re never amused
It’s over your head, you’re old and confused

I’m fed up with your antics, your old person scowl
The gut wrenching stories about your irritable bowl

Your opinions don’t matter, you haven’t a clue
Like a useless old horse we should turn you to glue

I could ramble off reasons all day and all night
Of why you’re irrelevant and fill me with spite

But the worst part of all which makes my head stew
Is that some day in the future I’ll be one of you

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