A Bucket for your Thoughts

Old people. The elderly. Senior citizens. Geriatrics. The aged.

Call them what you will, but they best stay the fuck outta my way.

Now I'm very kind... often polite... to my elders. These folks have been through a long life where they didn't have many of the luxuries we take for granted today like cellular phones, high speed internet, Ti-Vo, or car with airbags. Then again, they don't seem to use any of those things and will be taking Social Security to the grave with them, so maybe we shouldn't exactly pity the old ones among us.

But still, I give respect to my elders. MY elders. A funny thing about the phrase "respect your elders" is that no one defines who your elders are. Should we just assume that every single wrinkled, cranky, cough-drop-sucking body out there is "my" elder? Erroneous thinking at best. At worst, it's a leading cause for why people end up in therapy talking about how old man Withers touched their no-no places when they were five.

So I go out of my way... I take that extra step... I walk that extra mile, and I come up with my own clarification for who "your" (and "my") elders are. I say that the phrase "respect your elders" refers to anyone who was born before your parents' generation AND who is directly related to you or to a friend of yours.

Ta-freakin'-da. That's a nice narrow scope for people who automatically earn my respect. Now they can still work to lose that respect, but right off the bat, they keep it. Fair enough. Moving on.

Now as to all those other smelly, sweater-wearing has-beens who think they can act rude to me just because I haven't lived through a World War? I have some advice for those elders (who are not mine and probably not yours either) that will help them to survive in MY world.

1) Avoid the use of condescending tones with me at the supermarket. That area between the front ends of the aisles and the check-out lanes does not belong to you, geriatrics. If I am exiting one aisle to turn into the next one and I happen to cut in front of you, DO NOT SAY, "Well, excuse me," or else I will be forced to beat you to death with my box of Entenmann's cheese danish. This is mostly because it is a commonly held understanding that the area CLOSEST to the ends of the aisles is for turning. That is how God intended it at least, and if you want to argue the point, I will gladly send you to Him via the cheese danish. So don't give me attitude when YOU are the one getting in MY way.

2) Try breathing through your nose more. Do old people just not realize their breath stinks? And I'm not talking about every old person; I'm talking about the ones who walk around with their mouths ajar every friggin' second of every friggin' day. When I've reached a ripe and wizened age, I sure as hell know that I'll be popping Altoids like no other if my breath starts to smell like hot New Jersey garbage. On a side note, the guy who sits next to me in one of my law classes still hasn't learned to use deodorent. Good luck winning over clients with that smell, jackass.

3) Do not shop for food on days other than Senior Citizen Discount Day. Not sure about other states, but Georgia has a rather nice policy: on Wednesdays, old folk get a discount on all the groceries they buy. So logic would dictate that on any other day besides Wednesday, I wouldn't have to worry about running into the tottering horde of Mattlock-watchers. WRONG. Their numbers are bountiful at all moments. Hell, I turned on the lights in my kitchen this morning to get some cereal, and two 80-year old men with pants up to the collar bones were playing pinnocle over my sink.

Being fearful of unknown words that start with "p", I quickly turned my television onto Fox News and hurled it out the living room window. Like ravenous vultures, they descended upon it, seeking tidbits about how Bush is winning the war in Iraq and how liberalism is a possible cause of colon cancer.

But the bottomline is that they should shop on the one day alotted to them. Is that fair? Surely. Still, they don't seem to care. Honestly, when all of their food money comes outta MY paycheck, I guess they don't give damn about discounts. Well, they will from now on. Starting tomorrow, my "No Elderly Person Left Standing" policy goes into effect. If you are clearly a generation above my parents, I don't know you, and you are walking in or out of a grocery store on a day other than Wednesday, then prepare to taste the phenomenal fury that is the front fender of my Mitsubishi. They know what it looks like. They usually get a good look at it as I'm swerving aside in the parking lot to avoid them careening into it as they drive ever-wrecklessly. Which brings me to point 4...

4) Do not buy cars with the turning radius of a large yacht. You. Are. OLD. Your reflexes grow shottier by the day. Why in the name of all that is holy do you want to further hinder yourself with a vehicle that is ridiculously hard to steer, has horrible responsiveness, and needs about 100 yards to make a complete turning circle??? Sometimes I just want to scratch out my eyes after dipping my finger tips in vinegar as I watch you prematurely decaying souls taking a half hour just to get into a parking spot.

Now maybe someone would come to the defense of the age-ed and say, "They buy those bulkly car for safety. Most of them have great crash-test safety records."

My answer is: if a simple fall is enough to break your hip, then a car accident of any significance is pretty much going to win you a visit with the Grim Reaper. So screw safety. Go for SPEED and MANEUVERABILITY. You can't protect yourself from the chilled grip of death, but perhaps you can avoid it.