Change that will KILL you...

Naw...I'm not going off on a political rant. I'm really tired of all that bullshit and will be forever grateful when Tuesday has come and gone. Although, if you are of a mind to vote for Change because you think it might make a difference in your life, please know that the only change "The One" intends to leave you is a change of underwear. (If you're lucky) You see, I've been around long enough to know when somebody is peeing on my shoes and telling me it's raining.
Take that to the bank, if you still have one.

NO, what is pressing on my gourd today is life in general. Can you tell that I've just finished checking the obituaries? (It's always a good day when I'm not in there.)

As I scan the names and faces of the most recent planet departees, I find myself grading the duration of their respective "runs". I'll see a guy who pegged-out in his late seventies and think, "that seems like a good run" or, a woman who's odometer turned eighty-something and decide that "she can't complain". By the same token I lament the passing of folks who seem to have been given the bum's rush off the planet. There's something not right about receiving the ultimate short-change. You know...getting screwed!

What I have decided lately is that there is a situation that is actually worse than an early death. WAY worse. Sticking around passed your expiration date of seventy or eighty has got to be a special kind of hell. Why? It's simple, ...CHANGE. Change is the one thing that gets harder and harder to accept as the years roll by. It quite simply pisses us off. Seventy-five years is about all the change a man can handle and women, being way more tolerant, are able to put up with an additional five or ten more years of people "messing with stuff".

Think about it. When was the last time you knew who Don Pardo was talking about when he introduced the host of Saturday Night Live? Or, could even understand the name of this week's musical guest. Hell, Don's 90 now and I'm sure he doesn't know if he's wearing pants let alone who or what he's talking about. (Though I'm sure he's still cashing his checks.)

Face it. When was the last time you stayed up late enough to watch Saturday Night Live? I TIVO the damn thing and watch it at a more reasonable hour, but am beginning to wonder why I bother. It's just not that funny anymore. It has changed.

CHANGE, that's what kills us. A person can only accept so much of it and that is IT. "Get me out of here" syndrome begins to overtake us as the years roll by and the stupidity of the generations behind us becomes an unbelievably annoying burden.

Excuse me just a moment....

Hey, YOU KIDS GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!

Have you gotten a load of the tattoos the whippersnappers are sporting?

When I was a kid, the only time you saw people with tattoos was when either a circus or carnival was in town. Now, in our age of enlightenment, body mutilation has become an accepted form of self expression. I'm guessing that next those snappy homemade prison tats will become all the rage as the younger demographic opts for more "realism" in their exterior decoration. These are, after all, the same clowns that popularized the "bed head" hair style.
According to the Pew Research Center, 36% of all 18-to-25 year-olds now have tattoos. Makes a parent proud doesn't it?

I just want to stick around long enough to see how all these tattooed hunks and honeys deal with their body art when sagging skin and dunes of cellulite turn some of those bitchin' tats into something resembling the Blue Ribbon eggplant at the Iowa State Fair.
OH...it'll happen.

You see, I have been very carefully buying stock in several companies that produce the lasers needed by plastic surgeons for the removal of unwanted tattoos. I'll be RICH! I'll be 90, but I'll be RICH!

Better put in my request for an additional ten years. There must be hundreds of expensive cigars and cases of whiskey with my name on them that will need taking care of.

Now, that's Change I can Believe In.