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Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

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"Can you imagine us years from today sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be 70." -Paul Simon

Dear Gentlereaders,

I apologize to Mr. Simon, I hope he will forgive me for minding his business. 

I've been a fan since he and Mr. Garfunkle began making the world a better place back in the '60s. I remember the first time I heard Bridge Over Troubled Water in my friend Walter's old Mercury — the one with the manual choke that had an aversion to leaving the driveway on cold Winter mornings? — on our way to school one day.

Incredible. 

I hope he doesn't take what follows personally. However, his recent appearance with... wait a sec', I'll be right back. Found it! He opened the Saturday Night Live 50th anniversary show by performing Homeward Bound with one Sabrina Carpenter.

Hoo-Boy. 

I'm sure/I hope she's a perfectly nice young woman in real life, but I took one look with my toxic male gaze and immediately (and unfairly) surmised that her painted-on dress, and a visage so covered with makeup it looked like she was wearing a mask, indicated she was a practitioner of the sing insipid pop songs while dressing as provocatively as possible and prancing around the stage like a stripper genre — who was probably a former employee of the Walt Disney Company.

I was wrong. 

She sings dirty insipid pop songs while writhing about and occasionally assuming a position similar to a dog in heat looking for um... companionship. Why a musical giant was scripted to sing a duet with Ms. Carpenter served to perfectly illustrate how far both SNL and the music industry have fallen.  

{Oh c'mon Grandpa, get a grip!}

Open up YouTube and punch in her name, Dana, I'll wait.

{By the stomach of the eternal cow! Walt Disney must be spinning in his grave! No, wait, he's a Disneysicle, right?}

Actually, he was cremated; the Disneysicle thing is an urban legend.  

{Hold on, what does Ms. Carpenter's apparent willingness to do what a girl's gotta do to succeed in a patriarchy dominated by pasty sexists have to do with Paul Simon?}

Before I explain, for the record, I'm with ya Dana. Obviously, Ms. Carpenter is merely exerting her agency and embracing her sexuality, thus turning the tables on poor saps like me in thrall to their toxic male gaze. 

{Say, is there such a thing as a toxic female and/or lesbian and/or bisexual gaze?}

No, of course not, now, back to Paul Simon.

{Wait, wait, wait. What about those biologically male dudes who've discovered they're lesbians, the ones who are mad because some, I'm guessing most, biologically female lesbians don't want to shake the sheets with them? Do you think they're afflicted with a toxic male gaze?}

I'm moving on. 

Paul Simon is an old man. I can say this without fear of retribution/cancellation as I'm also an old man, a role I embrace without embarrassment/hesitation. Mr. Simon's performance on the show was amazing... for a man of 83. 

{Not to worry, I'm sure he won't take your observation personally.}

Performing with a 25-year-old, who delivered a joke about how her parents weren't yet born when he wrote the song they sang together served to highlight the fact he's um... lost a step, which is not exactly shocking.

{What about the Donald? He's almost 79 and...}

And seems to be almost as sharp as a tack, clearly sharper than the tack our unbiased media claim Sleepy Joe was/is anyway, but I have TSS (Trump Saturation Syndrome), so please, let's move on.     

I'm a remarkably youthful 71 (a mere stripling compared to Mr. Simon) but my short-term memory has deteriorated to the point that it's starting to worry me. I suffer from a marked case of tunnel vision. I'm dealing with no shortage of various and sundry health problems, in fact, a new one was recently added to the list. I've lost several steps.

So it goes, but I don't wish to shatter the illusions of any of my millions of gentlereaders by putting myself out there whereupon they'll discover I'm yet another slowly but steadily declining Boomer who could wake up dead any given day without anyone saying, "But he was so young!".

{Hold up there, Sparky. You forget that since I reside somewhere within your unusually large noggin, I know everything you know and I know that you've been signed by CCA.]

The Hollywood talent agency CCA (Creative Artists Agency) represents all sorts of celebrities, even idealistic politicians like Sleepy Joe, America's Wine Mom, the Obamas, and the pride of Texas, Beto O'Rourke, for example.

{Beto who? Hey, who's America's Wine Mom?}

I have been signed by CCA, but I have no intention of leaving Casa de Chaos and my beloved Ohio mountains and appearing who knows where and doing who knows what. I did it for a big fat signing bonus.  

{Aren't you afraid they'll sue you?}

Nah, I've got a nephew who's a newly minted lawyer in search of fame and fortune who's willing to defend me for nothing with his parent's full support. They're trying to get him out of their basement so they can sell their house and move to Tennessee (NE Ohio, Canada's deep South, has very short summers). I figure that if necessary he can drag the case out till after I'm dead. In fact, he's already preparing a countersuit as a defensive measure. 

Far be it from me to declare who needs to get off the stage, but if I were Paul Simon I would, considering all that he's accomplished and the legacy he's leaving, but that's up to him. Anyway, I'm probably wrong, a phenomenon that occurs with disturbing regularity. After all, he's going on tour this year and the cheap seats are going for 50 bucks last I heard.   

Life's a bitch, but eventually, you'll die, so relax and enjoy the show. Personally, I highly recommend listening to Paul Simon records, recorded with or without his childhood friend Artie's stellar assistance. Mr. Simon's not coming to the Hooterville Metropolitan Area, so I couldn't go see him even if I could afford to, I spent my signing bonus on lottery tickets. 

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

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Copyright 2024-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved

 

 

       

 

The Power of Dumb Luck

"How the <feck> did old people take over the world?" 

Image by Alexa from Pixabay

Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

  

                     ABOUT                                              GLOSSARY 

"The average person living in the world today is, on average, ruled over by someone forty years older than them." -How Money Works

Dear Gentlereaders,

Permit me to begin with some deck clearing. 

This missive was inspired by (and borrows heavily from) a video titled Gerontocracy created by the YouTube channel How Money Works. This is slightly less ethically dubious than you might think. My biggest fan, a semi-Luddite who doesn't own a computer, accesses my columns via the dead trees format. He can't watch the video so...

I'm a hooge fan of How Money Works which could also be called Economics For Normal People...in plain English...without econometrics (complicated math)...who may be somewhat skeptical of economists.

{Right? Why do they disagree on so much and why aren't they all gazillionaires if they know what they're talking about?}

I was about to say that the channel could also be called Economics For Dummies, big BUT, the short individual videos they create (rarely longer than 15 minutes) are packed with a lot of information that's presented at a rapid clip. If you haven't had your coffee yet, or are currently feeling overwhelmed by your absurdly complicated life, you may get lost in the details. 

{Maybe that's just you. You've somehow survived long enough to be seventy-something and I've noticed you're often not quite as sharp as...} 

However, if you're feeling focused and motivated... Wait, I've just thought of another title, Where the Rubber of Economics Meets the Road of Reality. That is to say, practical hard-nosed useful information, not esoteric theories.

The Boomers, till the Millenials showed up, were the largest generation in American history, which granted, is common knowledge. Big BUT, if not for the fact we Boomers arrived in the midst of "the most intense period of wealth creation in human history" it would've meant that there was a lot of us trying to get a slice of what would've been a much smaller pie.

That, my dear gentlereaders, is some serious dumb luck.

"...the world is hundreds of times wealthier today than it was in the 1950s and Baby Boomers have been able to capitalize on that for their entire lives with their heavy sway on politics." 

"...a perfect combination of being exposed to new technologies that would go on to change the world and create some of the most valuable businesses in history." 

Hey kids! Did you know that once upon a time, buying a house, comparatively speaking, was a slice of pie? Home prices weren't completely nuts as they now are in no shortage of various and sundry corners of the Republic. 

I'm acutely aware, as likely are most of you, that Sleepy Joe was the oldest president in American history. Assuming the Donald doesn't die (or is killed) before the end of his second term, he'll be the new record-holder by five months (my favorite fun fact from the video).

I'm also acutely aware, as likely are most of you, that many Boomer homeowners are practitioners of the Not In My Yard philosophy of property management, i.e., nope you ain't building that in my town/city/suburb, I/we like things just the way are thank you very much.

You're gonna have to find someplace else to establish your own homestead. Hey, take it up with the zoning commission. Ya want some cheese with that whine? Geesh, kids these days...

Now, while I was more or less aware that the average age of the average congressman congressperson is almost 60, and the average age of Senators is 64...

{You knew that?}

Cough, cough, as I said, more or less. Hey, I didn't have the exact information stored in Neuron #887925639234989852 but I knew the average is over 60. The good news is that the average age of members of Congress has dropped a few years lately -- several older members have died. 

While I'm not at all surprised that it turns out that only 15 to 27% of Americans vote in local elections (Guilty. I confess I don't always vote in Hooterville's local elections), I didn't know that homeowners over the age of 65 are seven times more likely to vote in local elections than voters 18 to 34.

The Hooterville Metropolitan area is top-heavy with my fellow geezers and geezerettes; the average age of a city councilman councilperson in the USA is 51.

"Elderly people have voted for elderly people who will keep their homes valuable which tends to be more elderly people helping to cement the gerontocracy from the ground floor. So, elderly people were influential at the right time to get rich and then they use that wealth to buy even more influence."    

I have no idea who my city councilperson is or how old he/she/they and their fellow legislators are, and I don't care, primarily because I'm a confirmed renter — I've been living in Ohio temporarily for 40 years — and Hooterville is relatively small. When our councilpersons do something goofy we turn on 'em quick, and they tend to back off. Fortunately, they're only part-timers who have real jobs in the real world.  

"That government is best which governs least." -Probably not Jefferson or Thoreau 

Another big BUT: in larger municipalities "...your locally elected representatives probably have more power over your life than the big dogs in Washington." These people could lower housing costs and increase supply, "but across the country, they choose not to."

OK, Boomer? This is why the kids hate you, hopefully not yours, but lots of other people's kids do. Pray they don't start paying more attention to local politics and that many will continue to support the Wokie notion that childless Millies and Zoomers stacked on top of each other like cordwood in large cities constitutes the good life. 

Watch the video irregardless of your age. I've only scratched the surface of the information you'll find. Aren't you lucky I told you about it? 

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

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Copyright 2024-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved

 

 

It's Not You, It's Me

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.

  

                     ABOUT                                              GLOSSARY 

"Kings are not born: they are made by artificial hallucination."    

                                                                             -George Benard Shaw

Dear Gentlereaders,

America, a democratic republic, recently conducted a royal funeral for a gentleman who moved out of the White House 45 years ago at the conclusion of his good/bad/mediocre/coulda been worse (choose one) single term as the Temporary King of America (TKOA). 

When I found out this occasion provided a 12th paid holiday for postal workers this year I thought that Mr. Carter had been canonized by the American Postal Workers Union but I was wrong. The majority of the employees of the Fedrl Gummit were given a paid day off so they could process their grief. 

{Process?}

A very popular word nowadays that's often substituted for the phrase deal with. I'm just tryna stay cool, bruh. 

The Donald's recent coronation marking/celebrating his second and last stint as TKOA is now behind us...assuming, of course, he doesn't morph into the fascist dicktater the Blue Team warned us about.

I started to write that irregardless, given the Donald's age we don't have much to worry about, but then I remembered that Mr. Peanut was our first temporary King who lived to be a hundred years old. 

{I wonder if he ate much fast food?} 

{By the way, whaddayamean temporary king? We don't have kings, we have presidents.}

We used to, Dana, but consider. Team Red raised $200,000,000 (more or less) from multiple sources to pay for several days of revelry to honor the Donald's return to the throne. 

Some proudly and publicly proclaimed their allegiance to the new King (as well as no shortage of various and sundry supporters from behind curtains), "to bankroll a multi-day extravaganza of lavish dinners, galas and events that give big money donors exclusive face time with the incoming administration." 

Call me cranky, but that seems more like financial obeisance to a new monarch, as opposed to a shindig at the VFW hall in the Swamp which is how we do things out here in Flyoverland.  

By the way, I stole the quote above from (yet another) non-profit, Campaign Legal Center, which according to Wikipedia "...is a government watchdog group in the United States. CLC supports strong enforcement of United States campaign finance laws."

I confess to knowing nothing about the CLC, in fact, I never even heard of them till I went a-googlin' in search of estimates of how much dough was spent celebrating the coronation. But mentioning one of our ubiquitous, politically focused non-profits when writing about anything political is a rule, and serves to make the writer sound like he/she/they know what they are talking about.

{I thought you were gonna knock off that he/she/they crap?}

The classics never get old. 

{And another thing, behind curtains? Doesn't the Donald's official inaugural committee have to issue an official report in a few months detailing exactly who gave what?}

Yep, but shockingly, as in campaign donations, there are loopholes available. For example, if I give my buddy the CEO of Acme Inc. some cash on the down-low he/she/they can make a corporate donation without mentioning me or those I may be fronting for.  

All politics, all the time.

If you're old like me, you may have fond memories of an early morning AM radio show that was the place to go for early morning updates as to what was going on in your corner of the country.

"Hey, Ma, did they cancel school?" 

In my case, it's KDKA Pittsburgh. America's first commercial radio station. I can still hear Jack Bogut cracking jokes and trading quips with newsman Ed Chauncey. I'm so old I remember Rege Cordic. I...

{Ahem.} 

A few weeks back I got up late, late for me anyway (7 a.m.), and on an impulse clicked on my clock radio as I wanted to check something out.

I rarely listen to it but it's tuned to a local AM station long past its glory days but is still a local icon -- "NewsRadio 570 WKBN - Youngstown's News, Weather & Talk Station." The news and weather reports are limited and brief but the talk (and the commercials) never stops.

The reason for my impulse was a recent local development. Long story short, one of the last two talk show hosts who reside in the Youngstown metro area has recently retired. That means there's only one local Joe Bagadonuts left (3 to 6 p.m.)...and 23 hours of regional or nationally syndicated jaw-jaw. 

Not having listened in quite a while I wondered who was currently talking (hosts come and go) to my fellow denizens of NE Ohio (Canada's deep south) as they trudged to work.

I unfondly remember (I'm retired and don't miss being a wage slave, not even a little bit) driving with one hand on the wheel, wiping my fogged windshield with a stained McDonald's napkin with the other, and squinting to see where I was going while waiting for my semi-trusty steed to thaw out. 

{Is unfondly a word?} 

One Michael Delgiorno (from Nashville) was ranting about how outraged he was about the recently dethroned TKOA, Slow Joe, retroactively pardoning friends and family members for any sins they may have committed -- At. Seven. O'clock. In. The. Morning. 

I turned off my radio. 

{Well, lots of people are upset about it. I don't see what...}

It's not you, it's me. Lots of other people are upset about the Donald pardoning most of the January 6 rioters, but that's not my point. 

Is getting worked up over Red team v. Blue team on your way to work in the morning before having to deal with bosses and coworkers, some of whom may not be your favorite H. sapiens, a good idea?

{Well, there's always Howard Stern. If he's not polluting your local airwaves one of his competitors is probably available on an FM station. They do tend to be sex-joke-saturated but some are quite funny. You're familiar with the FM band, right?}

Oh yeah. Pseudo-country music, "Classic Rock" (about a hundred tunes played over and over again), violent/obscene Rap/Hip-hop, Top 40 computer-generated insipid Pop... 

{Geesh..never mind.}

It's not you, it's me. 

Have an OK day, 

Colonel Cranky

Scroll down to share my work or to access previous columns.   

Comments? I post links to my columns on Facebook where you can love me, hate me, or cancel me. Cranky don't tweet (Xclaim?).

Copyright 2024-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved