Grumpy old man

With age most of the geewhiz experiences of life on earth are like listening to the same song a hundred times in a row. It might have been a good track, but now it’s like a deer fly circling your head and making you slap yourself. Worse still are bad songs, and worse than that . . . ad jingles. I can still hear those things from the 1950s.

Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya, use more only if you dare, but watch out, the girls’ll all pursue ya, they love to run their fingers through your hair.

Like demonic possession, fuck!

I go on an occasional tear about social media, which seems at times like a book one’s read a hundred times in prison where there’s little else left to do. Or compulsions to cut and pluck hair: idk. Still on Facebook (and Substack now). Long before Elon’s latest capers, I dropped off Twitter X because it’s a cesspool of snark and stupidity. Facebook has family afar (I can use that), a few worthwhile shares of things that are actually worth reading, and a very occasional interesting discussion. Nonetheless, I take long therapeutic breaks from it now. Substack I can cull, and it connects to actual discussions and long form think-pieces (Go Substack!). The rest . . . mmmmmm.

I’m reminded of my favorite conversation from the film Barfly (repeated twice).

Wanda: “I hate cops, don’t you hate cops?”

Henry: “No, but I seem to feel better when they’re not around.”

[and]

Wanda: “I hate people, don’t you hate people?”

Henry: “No, but I seem to feel better when they’re not around.”

I may not share Henry Chinaski’s misanthropy, but there are times when I empathize as I scroll through social media feeds.

The worst on social media are the blatantly uninformed/untrue truisms and meaningless “profundity.” These things make me want to drink Draino.

Or memes that contrapose war and “civilization” . . . wtaf! . . . civilization was built for war. Civilization is war. If you measure violence by scale, there’s nothing more violent than civilization.

Or “Find yourself” memes, like we can fly out of our bodies and land again somewhere else. Cripes! What were you yesterday? A duck?

Virtue signaling, and pretending to confront an imaginary opponent with a clever thrust. Stuff that’s posted to sound controversial or edgy or confrontational but really just seeks “likes” because no one who disagrees with you is actually on your feed. Shadow boxing.

And Rumi quotes, just stop!

Or “African Proverbs” that were composed in Portland.

Oh, and grammar cops! Has there ever been a more anal-retentive, elitist preoccupation in history than “correcting” or “disdaining” the way regular people talk and write?

While I’m on that one, the “I am superior” bookworms! Don’t get this grumpy old man wrong; I read books, a lot. But my brother never read a book in his life, and he could build a house or an engine by himself; so I’m annoyed by the gnostic turds who flaunt their love of literacy like it’s a badge of superiority. Lots of us superior readers can’t find our own asses with a radar when we get our noses out of the books.

And “healing” and “growing” memes . . . hold my beer while I put this meat thermometer in my ear and pound it through my brain with a rock hammer!

Or Jung. Don’t quote Jung, ever! Jung causes cancer.

Anything that talks about people like they are machines or computers makes me imagine torturing a bug. You don’t need to “recharge.” You do not need new software. You need to get the fuck off Facebook for a few days.

Celebrities saying “deep” shit. No no no no no no no no! They are not deep. They’re famous. It’s fucking different.

(to Dennis) Yes, it’s okay to post pics of Swedish dance bands.

Pictures of kids used to make adult political points — I feel manipulated, and you have now descended down in my estimation to the level of a car salesman.

Anything that claims “if everyone would just do this, we can ‘save the world’” Great! Get the fuck off of Facebook, and see if you can get ten neighbors to do it, then report back. I’ll wait here.

Wait, stop . . . here it comes, auchh! Is that a pain in my liver? What’s that sound?

Winston taste good like a cigarette should . . .

You’ll wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent.

Be right back, or not. (Make it stop!)