Old people have stupid names. Frannie, Marge, Walter, Mary-Lou, Archibald, Henry, Virginia, Claudia, Irving, Ernest, Blanche and Ruth. People no longer name their children any of those because we now realize that all of these names are about as trite and uninspired as the people who bear them. When was the last time you met a 70 year old named Dustin? You haven’t.
And God help us, these intolerable assclowns drive. My grandmother, before she died, did the same thing that many old women her age do when it comes to driving. She took down a stop sign, backed into three cars in a parking lot, and almost maimed a pedestrian (I’m not making this up). All because she refused to admit that she was too fucked up on Percocet and steroids (still not making this up) to be able to drive. But when you ask her about the obvious dents and smashed windows, oooh no, she didn’t do anything; she has no idea, and let me tell you about those other crazy drivers. Stop lying to yourself, cuz the moment you run over a teenager in your Buick, you’ve officially traded a young life with much left to do for your own wasted, used, sorry, withered existence. Buck the hell up and admit when you’re too much of a shitbag to do people things anymore.
Instead of calling someone, text them. Instead of leaving a voicemail, text them. Texting is less personal than a phone call and way less of a hassle to check than a voicemail, and NO ONE enjoys the experience of leaving or checking a voicemail. Is it less personal? You bet it is and that’s exactly why we like it. You see, on a phone call, if you start talking about stupid crap like what skin disease you contracted this week, short of hanging up, we are stuck hearing you babble about crap no one gives a shit about. If you send it in a text, I can get one line into reading it, realize I don’t care, and move on with the rest of my life without having to waste my time and sanity wading through your meandering garbage. Stop wasting my time when I have important things to do, I only have so many hours in a day to get a colonic, beat my girlfriend, or setting mice free in a restaurant. Or you know, to work or whatever. And when you complain that it’s so less personal than hearing someone’s voice, you bet your ass it is. That’s the best part.
I hope I never get old, the day I’m unable to wipe my own ass is the day I want to die. I don’t want to have to wear Life Alert, I don’t want to walk out to get the morning paper only to wander off and never come home again, I don’t want to piss away my last years in a wheelchair. People think that setting up old people in a home is doing them a favor, in reality its only prolonging their suffering. If you want to help an old person, do the right thing and kill them. They’ll thank you for it with their last breath. And the economy will thank you for it too. Yes, old people are bad for the economy.
Consider this: Right now each and every one of us is paying into the Social Security system. Anyone my age, you can bet your sure ass that the Social Security system will long have since collapsed under the weight of the Baby Boomers , cocaine-fueled Xers, and the unemployed leeched of our own generation before we ever get to reap a dime out of it. Since we’re spending our lives paying into a glorified Ponzi scheme that we’ll never get to see the benefits of, old people right now are stealing your money with no intent to give it back. When I pay my sales tax, I understand that the money I fill the state’s coffers with will go to things that I benefit from, like repairing roads and hiring cops to throw beer bottles at. When I pay into Social Security, I do so with the understanding that I will never see a dollar of it, because by the time I get old enough to qualify for it, it won’t exist anymore. The well will have run dry buying adult diapers and walkers and catheters. At that point it becomes charity instead of a civic responsibility, and if I got to choose which charity I donate my money to, it would be the Me charity, where I get to do whatever the fuck I want with my money instead of sending it all away to a bunch of barely-sentient raisins who will never do anything beneficial for me and were apparently too busy hating digital clocks and equal employment rights to plan for their own retirement. Old people take up space that homeless people could live in, they play golf at courses that homeless people could live on, they drive cars that homeless people could live in, and they eat food that homeless people could eat. It’s the only logical conclusion that old people hate homeless people, and I refuse to give another hard-earned tax dollar to any such bigot. If you get gifted the money I worked for, the least you can do is give me your senior discount at CVS.
Senior discount, are you fucking kidding me? You already get a ton of shit for free for being worthless to society, what are you, a Congressman? I propose we revoke the senior discount at all retailers and replace it with a juvenile discount. Lord knows when I was fifteen and could barely afford my LSD I could have used a few bucks off my movie tickets and take out pizzas. So old people, my proposition is simple: shit or get off the pot. You can’t have it both ways. Or better yet, just die. No one will hold it against you if you find a cool way to do it. We can set up public death matches or volcano baths, and afterward we can use your remains for mulch to grow crops for people who are still important, that would be a nice way to give back to the young you keep taking from. God forbid you piss us off even further and we decide to stop paying for your hospice… And use that money to buy a new computer.