I am a child of the 60’s and it wasn’t that long ago that we were the generation that told people not to trust anyone over thirty and then we became thirty ourselves.
When our generation turned forty and we had to deal with things such as kids, mortgages and other real world responsibilities, we’d say things like “forty is the new thirty”, so we could tell ourselves that we weren’t getting old. We knew it was some bullshit excuse, because behind closed doors we’d be rubbing Ben-Gay on our aching muscles, hiding the grey with Lady Clairol and the recreational drugs that we use to take had been replaced by prescribed medications for blood pressure, thyroid, diabetes and who knows what else.
And now --- the children of the 60’s are in their fifties and there’s no use deny it anymore – we’re not getting old – we are old. When you can sit in your easy chair at night and turn on any one of the news channels and see advertisements with 1-800 phone numbers selling music from Jimi Hendrix, Led Zepplin and Bob Seger – you know you’re getting old. These were the kind of ads in the 60s that we use to make fun of that sold the music of the 40s and 50s – the artists that they’re promoting now has changed because the audience has changed. It’s official – the children of the 60s are the new old farts.
If you can walk into a bar and order drinks while wearing jeans and a will i am t-shirt and not get carded…..then you’re officially an old fart.
If your idea of a “happy meal” is anything that you can eat without your dentures…..then you’re officially an old fart.
If the most mentally challenged show that you watch on television is Babe Winkleman’s fishing show…then you’re officially an old fart.
Any time you start out a sentence with the phrase, “You kids…..” ….then you’re officially an old fart.
When somebody asks you how you voted in the last election and you tell them that you’re hoping your doctor will prescribe Viagra for you….then you’re officially an old fart.
Any time you see a kid with fluorescent blue hair wearing a nose ring and say something like “what in the hell is he thinking looking like that” and you forget that when you were that kid’s age – you had hair down to the middle of your ass wore a “I’m with stooopid” t-shirt….then you’re officially an old fart.
If you get arrested and go to trial and a jury of your peers can only be found at the local nursing home….then you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember when you had to lick a postage stamp…then you’re officially an old fart. Better yet….if you can remember postage stamps….you’re officially an old fart.
If the first car that you ever owned was ever sung about in a recording by Jan and Dean or the Beach Boys…you’re officially an old fart.
If your idea of a “date movie” is picking up a copy of “Driving Miss Daisy” from Blockbuster…you’re officially an old fart.
If you call your wife “Mother” or your husband “Daddy”….you’re not only weird – you’re officially an old fart.
If your drink of choice is milk on the rocks…you’re officially an old fart.
When you tell someone that you can’t meet them for lunch, because you have to watch “your stories” on television – you’re officially an old fart.
If you have to have someone cut up your oatmeal so you can eat it in the morning…you’re officially an old fart.
If you have to explain to someone that the piece of jewelry on your wrist is a ‘watch’ and it’s used to ‘tell time’….then you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember your first kiss, but have a hard time remembering where you put your car keys….then you’re officially an old fart.
If that relaxing cocktail at the end of the day is mixed with Metamucil….you’re officially an old fart.
If you tell anyone that you read an interesting article in the large print edition of Reader’s Digest…you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember when there were four living Beatles…you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember who shot J.R. or better yet, who J.R. is….you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember when the ignition for your car was located on the dash and not on the steering column….you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember watching Neil Armstrong walking on the moon or Richard Nixon resigning the presidency on TV….you’re officially an old fart.
If “worrying about the draft” meant something other than having to shut the door to keep the cold out…you’re officially an old fart.
If you can remember people getting pissed off because Bob Dylan picked up an electric guitar…you’re officially an old fart.
If you have to explain to someone that you actually had to get up off your ass to change the channel on your television…you’re officially an old fart.
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