From the Lips of Our Elders to the Ears of Our Not-So-Youth (i.e. Me)

Overheard in a Public Place for Wednesday, April 24 2013; Whilst standing in the pharmacy line up (no, no ointments) I hear the two old men in front of me talking. They’re about 85 years old and look like they may have known Moses personally they’ve got so many city miles on them. During the course of the conversation about whatever – frisky old nursing home birds or how far your parts drop as your ears and nose continue to grow or any other topic that smells slightly like slav, Zellers brand cologne and mothballs, I hear Statler drop two pretty well known racial slurs on Waldorf mid-story! And not bat an eye. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he was calling his geriatric broheim names (heavens no! That would be wrong) but it happened while he was talking about someone else. And he used it like an adjective! You know, like how we would say ‘oh, you know Brenda; she’s the one with that weird eye that isn’t always quite looking at you’ or ‘That’s the guy Steve I was telling you about; he’s the one with one nut.’ Just all matter of fact. And strangely, it made me think about how old people just don’t give a shit and how they totally deserve it. I mean, look at ’em, g’bless their long, tall soxstrap (suspenders for your socks) sportin’ cotton socks; most of them have lived almost as long as Jesus so they deserve to be able to use racial slurs without meaning them as racial slurs, knowingly drive like Mr. Magoo and they are even deserving of making you suffer that little bit of conscience when you’ve cursed out the driver in front of you for wasting the turning light, threw some pretty unSunday school, potentially gender-themed slurs at them… And then see their little waxed almond head peeking up from behind the wooden steering wheel of their land cruiser automobile. 
When I’m old I’m going to celebrate my old ness by wearing moo-moos, even if I don’t need them (with soxstraps, of course. Those aren’t just for men), refuse to step on an escalator for fear that it’ll suck me in at the bottom, get pushed everywhere in those quick little chauffeured mobile Air Canada carts, even when at the mall and tell strangers’ little children when they’re too fat. Maybe even pinch a cheek or two.

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