As George Bernard Shaw said, “Youth is wasted on the young punks who live in my neighbourhood.” These are the idiots that steal booze and then walk the streets proclaiming how young and alive they are by shouting out “WOOOO!” at three in the morning, while decent people are loading their shotguns and waiting for them to place one Sketchered toe on their lawn. Fortunately for them, decent people are sympathetic to their emotional plights so the odds of teenage fatalities decrease because shortly after the three A.M WOOO fest, one of the girls will have a screaming fight with one of her BFF’s because of her indiscretions with Dylan or Dallas or Xerxes or whatever the fuck these kids are being named nowadays. Decent folk don’t have the heart to put an abrupt 12 gauge end to teenage angst.
I know that kids have problems like overdeveloped texting thumbs or emotional plights centered around TV shows on the CW network. So I understand that they have to let off some steam by attending rock and roll parties and engaging in unprotected open mouth kissing. That’s why I don’t despise the bitches and the corresponding sons of bitches. I believe in peace between the generations. That’s why I’ve decided to be nicer to old people.
When some crotchety old bastard tells me about the good ole days, no more will I daydream of hot fudge sundaes while he drones on and on. Now I will actually…well, not quite listen, but maybe daydream about something related to one minor point that he mentioned. Which is basically what everyone does anyway. Like my friend John. I would tell him this story: “So I was going to get my car washed and all of a sudden this dog ran into the road and I had to swerve out of the way so I didn’t hit him and while I was careening out of control, I went over the center line, crashed into a telephone pole and woke up 3 weeks later in the hospital. The doctor told me that I had been clinically dead for over 2 minutes. I knew that during those 2 minutes, I had seen God and found out that my destiny is to help mankind through…” at that point John would interrupt and say, “Yeah, I really need to wash my car too.”
Since I’m aware that nobody really listens or cares, once I get old enough to lecture young people, I intend to be brutally honest with them. Also, I’m going to keep it short and to the point. That way, at least I can rest assured that they got a quick dose of truth, even if they aren’t listening. Like:
“When I was your age, I was a lot better looking than you are now.”
or
“When I was your age, I had sex with your mom.”
I probably never had sex with their mom but I’ll say it anyway… because young people need to know that their mothers were skanks too. It gives them perspective and stuff. WOOOOOOOOO!
