fatdavid8

A guy that I work with and I were eating lunch together today and considering our expanding paunches, libraries of recurrent aches and pains, receding hairlines, etc. . . . in essence, the old men that we're rapidly becoming (we're roughly the same age).

I have to say, as an aging white guy, that the future looks grim and the options narrow. I mean, what sort of old-guy options are there for old white guys anymore? You can be that weird old guy that no one ever sees except when he takes creepy walks around the neighborhood late at night, peering through windows after everyone else has gone in for the evening, or you can be the mean old guy that no one ever sees except when he lets in and out his homicidal dog or sticks his head out the front door to yell, "Hey, you God damned kids! Get the hell off my driveway!"

I think I'm going to work on becoming the creepy old guy you see hanging out by the playground of the local Catholic junior high/middle school, the one sitting near the end of the slide with a linty pocketful of unwrapped Tootsie Rolls softly melting in the sun...

In fact, as I type this, I'm fondling a swatch of Black Watch plaid and licking my fingers.