A senior citizen’s Christmas wish list for all of mankind…
New Episodes of Perry Mason
I realize that Raymond Burr has passed but if Tupac Shaker can keep releasing records 15 years after his death surely ABC can see its way clear to create a few new episodes of the finest television program to ever grace the American airwaves.
An 80-year old Miss America
I nominate Miss Carrie Nayshen from my seniors centre. At 88 she is classy, still has decent gams, looks fine in a swimsuit and plays the Star Spangled Banner on the harmonica with her nose. (And as an added bonus she won’t embarrass the country by having a damned sex tape surface 6 weeks after she’s crowned.)
Sensible Slang
Back in my day, we’d get on the blower, call our best gal and bump gums about the latest scat platters and how we’d be playing them at the next jolly up. It made sense damn it.
School Uniforms
Nothing deters pesky impulses toward self-expression and breaks a young person’s spirit faster than a good old fashioned school uniform. Say goodbye to exposed underpants, hoochie momma shorts and moronic hoodies and force every young person into a pair of blue trousers, a white oxford shirt and a decent necktie regardless of whether they are attending school or not.
Senior Car Lanes
Give us seniors our own extra wide lanes with a 30 mph speed limit, large print stop signs, ample roadside rest areas and leave us to drive in peace for Christ’s sake.
Child Labour Laws
It seems to me that the standard of young people has been falling steadily ever since we pulled them out of factories, off the fields and started “protecting” them for damned employment. A 12-hour shift in a coal mine never hurt anyone and if it puts 50 cents in the pocket of a young person it’s good for the economy too.
Weighted Voting
I have 80 plus years of experience and yet some misguided 18-year old’s ballot carries just as much meaning as mine. It’s ludicrous. I should get one vote per decade and young people should stop voting altogether. They’re too naive, wide-eyed and idealistic to have any meaningful input into politics.
Proper Swimwear
If there was ever a generation that didn’t belong in bikinis and speedos this would be it. Going to the beach is like visiting a plus-size pornographic movie set. It’s nothing but jiggly bits, thongs and exposed ass-cheeks. I say it’s time to bring back one-piece swimming costumes for men, modest bathing gowns for the ladies and return some decency to our public shorelines.
Senior Impunity Day*
All I ask for is one day in the year when an old man is free to pick up his cane and wallop whoever the Hell he wants, wherever he wants, as often as he wants. No questions asked.
Coming soon, things I’d like to see happen in 2010.
*(with thanks to reader, TJ, and his suggestion in an earlier comment thread for the introduction of “Delinquent Caning Day”).
Just in time for Christmas. More fun for the whole damned family…
“Young People: The Trading Cards.” Over 30 different cards available! Buy them today, collect them tomorrow and trade them with your friends for years to come.
This month’s offering:
Card #13: The Assclown. An absolute must for any serious collector.
Card #17: The Heavy Metal Moron. The backbone of any good collection.
Card #16: The Raver. Highly collectable and cute as a damned button.
And a rare, special edition collectable group card, Card #28: the Social Misfits.
Coming next: The Know-it-all, the Princess and the Skateboarder.
Previous trading cards available here and here.
Brought to you by the old man at Donco.
My seniors centre recently placed an ad looking for janitorial help and received over 300 resumes in response. Given my experience in judging people, I was asked to help sift through them and identify potential candidates for interviews.
While I was pleased to note that a good number came from damned young people, I was horrified by the outrageous collection of nonsense they contained.
Based on the appalling assortment of misspelled words and inappropriate content I saw sprawled on everything from cocktail napkins to what looked suspiciously like toilet paper, I offer the following resume writing advice for young people.
First off, don’t be a damned idiot. Your resume SHOULD NOT include:
- Doodles, illustrations, copulating stickmen, graffiti, naked photographs or any combination of the above.
- An asinine email address like hugecock133@gmail.com, nightsniper@aol.com, outcallsonly@aol.com, thuglife555@gmail.com or drunkbynoon@gmail.com .
- Your gang name or street name. (Neville Cartwright may not be as flashy as “Lil’ Bluntdog” but try to remember that you’re looking for work, not to score a damned nickel bag).
- Unidentifiable stains and the lingering aroma of Skoal, Red Bull or bong water.
- Career goals like “retiring at 25 and then kicking back with some fine bitches”.
- Blatant lies. (Chances are that if you went to College you’d know how to spell it correctly and wouldn’t be applying to clean the toilets at a seniors centre in the first place. If you’ve got no education, just say so. After all, not everyone can graduate from “Hardverd” or” Yayle”).
- A request that the employer follow you on Twitter.
- A copy of your rap sheet, the word “superfreaky”, a pentagram, details of why your dad is a “total dick” or a stool sample.
Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way. Try to remember that your resume SHOULD include:
- A listing of skills that are relevant to the job you’re applying for. (Note: The ability to list all of the episodes of Star Trek in chronological order is not a skill; it is an indicator of social abnormality and should be played down at all costs).
- A current address that is more specific then “the red house”, “my buddy’s place” or “I’d rather not say”.
- A phone number with more than 6 digits.
- Recent work experience. (Note: Driving a cab in the video game “Crazy Taxi” does not technically qualify as part of your employment history).
- References (preferably clergy, professionals or community leaders – not people named “Shaky” or “Deuce”).
And for the love of God, if you take nothing else away please keep in mind that employers don’t like a resume that:
- has a link to your facebook page;
- includes smiley faces or use of the abbreviation LOL;
- sticks to your fingers;
- asks about an employer’s drug testing policy
- threatens retaliation if you aren’t hired;
- misspells your own name; or
- is written on the sole of a god damned shoe
Now that we’ve covered the basics – get out there, get to work on your resumes and smarten the Hell up.
Damned young people drive me crazy.
The problem with young people today is that they think they know everything.
When I was a lad, young people were ignorant – and we were smart enough to know it.
We understood that wisdom came with experience, maturity and age. Knowledge was the purview of the educated, the wealthy and the gainfully employed, not feckless pinheads with an over-inflated sense of self-worth and Wikipedia book marked on their laptops.
In my day young people didn’t presume to understand important issues let alone have an opinion on them. If my old dad told me the piano teacher from down the road was a communist sympathiser, I didn’t offer up some lukewarm retread of the First Amendment in response – I shunned the man in public, pelted his house with crab apples and joined with a mob to run him out of town.
And even if we did think we knew better than our parents we kept our mouths shut. Contradict my father? I may have been ignorant but I sure as Hell wasn’t stupid.
But nowadays, every blowhole of a 15-year old thinks they have the answer to everything from healthcare reform to global warming to the pitching needs of the New York Yankees. And all based on their extensive experience sitting in their parent’s basement watching Scooby Doo Cartons, Ashton Kutcher movies and stuffing their mouths with Ding-Dongs, Skittles and Baby Ruth candy bars.
I blame television for the whole damned mess.
At first, children’s programs were meant to do little more than stop an unattended sprog from sticking his tongue in an electrical outlet but somewhere along the line they started slipping in nasty messages telling these damned kids they were unique, smart and had opinions worth sharing.
Well let me tell you, that damned Elmo may think you’re special but as far as I’m concerned until you’ve hung up your hoodie, held down a job and paid into the tax system, you’re just some know-nothing teenager who’d be wise to keep your damned mouth shut, your opinions to yourself and let the adults do your thinking for you.
That’s just my opinion. But unless you’re over 40, I don’t want to hear any argument.
They think they know everything. That’s the problem with young people today.
Few things gall my bladder more than the fact that damned young people today seem intent on laying claim to all of the ailments that were previously the sole purview of senior citizens.
There was a time not too long ago when you weren’t allowed to have a heart attack until you’d spent 30 years working behind a desk smoking two packs of Camels a day and drinking whiskey at afternoon business meetings. Nobody handed you your massive coronary – you damn well earned it.
But nowadays, every little bugger with a taste for Big Macs and a fear of physical activity is clogging up their arteries and my hospital emergency room with their damned grade school heart attacks. Call me old fashioned but I don’t think I should have to wait for my weekly defibrillation while some wheezy kid in short pants has his pace maker tuned up. I waited 60 years for my triple bypass and they should too damn it.
It’s typical of young people today – always looking for a shortcut. In my day young people got chicken pox, measles and mumps and we were satisfied with that. We had respect for health care, for natural aging and our elders.
You don’t see me running around with acne, croup or going through puberty. I’m not stealing your orthodonist’s appointment to get my damned headgear tightened.
And it’s not just heart attacks. They’re horning in on our adult onset diabetes, lengthening the line up for artificial hips and generally stealing our ailments left, right and centre.
Even the denture clinic is full of toothless meth addicts hell bent on getting their grubby paws on an upper partial. It’s damned disgraceful and unfair to the rest of us that had to wait for our teeth to decay the old fashioned way. I have no interest in wrestling some drug-addled hooligan for the last tube of Poly-Grip at the drugstore and I resent their damned interloping.
Mark my words, next they’ll be coming after our rheumatoid arthritis and cataracts. And then how long will it be before they want incontinence? Before they’re stealing our dementia? Our hunched backs?
It’s a damned sad state of affairs I don’t mind telling you – and it’s going to get a Hell of a lot worse if someone doesn’t step up and straighten these young people out soon.
Galling. That’s what it is.
