Part 473 in my series, “Why does everything suck now?”
As I mentioned before, I love old people, I really do, but it’s getting harder to distinguish them from the younger crowd when they ride around the city on Vespas wearing cool clothes and listening to The Arcade Fire on their iPods. I need to know you are old so I can respect you, otherwise I’m just going to judge you and hate you like I do everyone else!
When I was a kid, old people looked old and they acted their age. In fact, they acted older than their age and it felt right. Old ladies got their hair set once a week at the beauty shop, they protected that hairdo with a clear plastic rain bonnet while outdoors (rain or shine) and continued to protect that precious blue hair at night with yet another bonnet. They wore those old lady glasses and they wore dresses in public, house dresses while watching their “stories” at home and nightgowns to bed. I’m fairly sure they were never naked, ever. They wore enough perfume to mark you like an animal for a week after they hugged you and they didn’t fucking do water aerobics.
Old men wore their pants high and kept their pockets filled with pens, tire gauges and pocket knives. They had ear hair and nose hair thick enough to make a broom and their hands were big and intimidating. They had a favorite chair, you knew not to bother them while they occupied that chair and if you suggested they try “Sweating to the Oldies” they would punch you in the face with their giant hands, leaving you to pick hand hair out of your face for the rest of the day.
They looked the part and it gave us kids a visual reminder that they were the grown-ups and we were mostly just in the way. The good old days.
But forget about all that today. Today’s selfish old people have the nerve to milk life for everything it’s worth and can usually be spotted having fun in comfortable clothing. What the fuck is up with that?
Sad. Look at your long, luxurious silken mane! Tell me young man, are you a model for romance novels? I honestly thought for a second that you were Fabio. Seriously, I’m not kidding, I saw you and… OH MY GOD, YOU’RE BALD! MY EYES! I WAS SO DISTRACTED BY YOUR BEAUTIFUL PONYTAIL THAT I HADN’T NOTICED! IT BURNS! Come on pal, do you really think those last few tragic strands of hair clinging for life on the back of your head are enough to distract from the polished orb that sits just above? I know you desperately want to tell the world “I’m fun! I own Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits!” but maybe it’s time to throw in the hair towel and admit that Mother Nature is kicking your head’s ass. I know you have a bit of a “rep” to maintain at the shoelace factory but maybe it’s time to let that new guy in shipping be the “cool, easy-going rock dude” for a while. Nothing wrong with being bald, right? Maybe if you shave your head you will acquire an LL Cool J vibe, or better yet Bruce Willis! There, now we’re talking, you want to be the new Bruce Willis in the neighborhood? I’ll make you a deal, cut off that feeble tail, bury it in backyard and I will buy you a harmonica. I think Bruce Willis said it best… respect yourself.
Understand something from the git go, I LOVE old people. If I’ve waited in line at the post office for 20 minutes and just as it’s my turn an old lady hobbles past everyone and walks right up to the counter I’m overjoyed. I’m being serious, I love it.
Good for you old people! You’ve been through enough shit and don’t need to be wasting your last few precious moments waiting in some bullshit line with a bunch of assholes checking their email on their cell phones. You don’t even know what email is and you could not care less that I currently have a score of 40,572 in “Cat Physics” on my iPhone. Although, to be fair, I worked really hard on that score, old people, and you should at least acknowledge it, especially if I’m letting you cut in line at the post office and drive 6 MPH in front of me on the road. Would it kill you to just say “Good job sonny” and take an interest in something I like for a change?
Having said that, old people should not be guarding the bank. I’m guessing the security guard at my bank was born around 1835 but he doesn’t look a day over 130! When I walked in the bank today I was trying to figure out why a guard’s uniform was sitting on top of a pile of dusty meat in the corner and then I realized it was just the guard.
God bless the guy, but forget about him running across the room to karate kick a pistol out of the hands of a robber. At best, this guy might be able to muster up a cranky glare or a disapproving “Hmmmpfff.”
So, I think I’ve made myself clear… old people acting selfish = awesome. Old people with guns = my vast fortune getting robbed.
OK, maybe I didn’t work that out very well but my brain is about to melt thanks to finding the world’s scariest photo.
I want to be delicate here because the photographer had good intentions (if you call taking a photo of your grandfather on his deathbed a good idea) but holy shit do I wish I never saw this nightmare. I mean COME ON, it’s got everything you need to keep you up at night… exposed light bulb in a dark room, grainy black & white, mysterious little dolls, a crucifix and a dying grandfather who looks remarkably like he’s wearing a “Michael Myers” mask.
Blow it up at your own risk, I’m pretty sure it steals your soul.
Stop the madness! Steven, God is obviously trying to kill you, or at the very least send you a message. Give it up! Stop dancing around like an old, drunk slut at a bar who just played an entire Bob Seger album on the jukebox. Go be an old lady somewhere and stop making me look at you. Seriously, at this point your face has more wrinkles than my saggy balls on a hot summer day.*
Aerosmith has about 7-10 good songs. Unfortunately, the rest of their shitty songs are so God-awful that it has made it impossible to enjoy their good songs. I’m sure Carrot Top has one or two good jokes, but the remainder of his material would prevent me from finding them funny. For every 3 shitty songs you write, a good one is erased from the face of the earth.
Janie’s Got A Gun
+
Dude (Looks Like A Lady)
+
Rag Doll
=
NO MORE TOYS IN THE ATTIC
It’s simple math.
*for those of you who do not have balls, the hotter they get, the longer and more horrible they become.
Enjoy this video of God trying to stop Steven Tyler for good
Wilford Brimley scares the shit out of me. Actual shit comes out of me when I see him.
Why is he SO angry all the time? Although I am not elderly and do not have “diabeetus,” I still called Liberty Medical and ordered 5 years’ worth of supplies just because Wilford looked like he was going to jump out of the TV and wipe that smile off my face, punk. I probably got diabetes from all the fucking Quaker oatmeal the son-of-a-bitch instructed me to eat in the 80s. OK, I don’t think excessive amounts of oatmeal gives you diabetes, but Jesus Christ, Wilford Brimley has some sort of creepy control over me. I feel like my dad is yelling at me when I see one of his commercials.
I will admit that Wilford was a total bad-ass in John Carpenter’s remake of “The Thing.” Of course he was playing a scary old man, so it wasn’t much of a leap for him.
Wilford Brimley doing what he does best… yelling at you to buy things.
Buy some crap, and GET OFF MY LAWN!
“This little shit eats peaches & cream every blessed, god damned morning.”
Sad. Look at your long, luxurious silken mane! Tell me young man, are you a model for romance novels? I honestly thought for a second that you were Fabio. Seriously, I’m not kidding, I saw you and… OH MY GOD, YOU’RE BALD! MY EYES! I WAS SO DISTRACTED BY YOUR BEAUTIFUL PONYTAIL THAT I HADN’T NOTICED! IT BURNS! Come on pal, do you really think those last few tragic strands of hair clinging for life on the back of your head are enough to distract from the polished orb that sits just above? I know you desperately want to tell the world “I’m fun! I own Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits!” but maybe it’s time to throw in the hair towel and admit that Mother Nature is kicking your head’s ass. I know you have a bit of a “rep” to maintain at the shoelace factory but maybe it’s time to let that new guy in shipping be the “cool, easy-going rock dude” for a while. Nothing wrong with being bald, right? Maybe if you shave your head you will acquire an LL Cool J vibe, or better yet Bruce Willis! There, now we’re talking, you want to be the new Bruce Willis in the neighborhood? I’ll make you a deal, cut off that feeble tail, bury it in backyard and I will buy you a harmonica. I think Bruce Willis said it best… respect yourself. 
