Grayby Boomer

geezerThe AARP cards are coming fast and furious now that I’m just a gray whisker shy of 55 years old. Being at the tail-end of the Baby Boomers, I must share in the responsibility for the ills that this generation has wrought on the world. No doubt, we’ll have a lot to answer for in the hereafter.

Now that we’re getting older, the world is facing a growing population of “Grayby Boomers” that refuses to die on schedule, thus leaving succeeding generations—I’m looking at you millennials, Gen X’ers, and Y’ers—to care for us when we’re all dribbling in nursing homes. So get off your butts and get a job!

Technology seems like something all the cool kids are doing. Pays well too! I should know, I used to do it. And not so long ago that I had to program with a wrench, thank you very much. But please, should you choose to get a job in technology, remember that what is “innovative” to you is probably a bloody nuisance to your elders.

Just because you can make your car talk to your refrigerator to let it know when you’re close to home so it can tell the microwave to cook dinner, doesn’t mean you should. Ever.

And for the love of Mike, will you please get over your fascination with touch-sensitive controls for everything! “What’s wrong with a switch, boy? You don’t need to go leaping straight for the haptic feedback like a bull at the gate!” [If you don’t get the Monty Python reference, then I really am old. Arrrgh!]

Feeble old buzzards like me, prefer things we can wrap our arthritic fingers around. We derive an almost unnatural joy and sensual pleasure from the feel of a good *click!* And while I may not be able to see the damn switch, I can at least feel the blasted thing! [Where did I put my glasses anyway?]

Yes, our generation will have to answer for our many sins: Vietnam, global warming, Disco, the Ford Pinto, Three’s Company. If you believe in karmic retribution, a la Homer Simpson being force-fed an infinite supply of donuts by his own personal demon, then one shudders to consider what we’re in for. So remember, it can happen to you too. Be wise and tread carefully.

I mean, I sure wouldn’t want to spend an eternity in hell, with my own personal air conditioner that can only be operated by a cellphone app using itty-bitty, closely-spaced, touch-sensitive, virtual buttons, labeled in a microscopic font, and requires a password 15 characters long with two caps, three numerals and a special character!!!!!! Would you?

Oh, and would you mind getting off my lawn? Thanks.

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