in my day

What do you suppose will happen in 40 years or so when the retirement villages are full of pot smoking, heavy-metal-listening old dudes and grannies who forego the traditional secret nip of cooking sherry for half an E and a couple of bongs before their evening walk? Will the hospital staff, all born in like 2020 or some other crazy futuristic-seeming year, tut-tut them? Will the 2050’s be like the 1950’s except oddly reversed? Gangs of 80 year old men stealing hubcaps and smoking cigarettes behind the bowling alley? Will they cry things like “What’s to be done about senior delinquency?” and “who will save the aged of today from the cruel grip of Satan” and “what they need is a good whooping and an honest day’s work” and “in my day we had to push buttons to make the microwave come on” and “what’s the capital of Belgium?”

There’s some old people live around here. A lot of them. They listen to late night TV compilations like Summer Of Love, Rock and Roll Gold and Classic AM Radio B Sides of 1972-73. There’s a reason Leo Sayer is back on tour.

Another thing they do is write letters to the local paper explaining how daylight savings time is really just the Government conditioning the masses to robotically respond to all commands. Today it’s set your clocks back an hour, tomorrow they’ve got you harvesting baby organs to render for oil. Precious baby-oil.

It’s so obvious.

Too obvious.

Precisely what they want you to think. Distract you from the real issue. Which is the Government is stealing time and selling it to alien civilizations who’s time is up. That’s how the Government affords that flashy car it drives up and down the street at all hours.

Damn Government needs a good whooping and an honest day’s work.