The Geretol is under the couch. At least that is where is saw it when I passed out under there last Christmas. I think Old Man ate all the ExLax. Don’t you remember? We told him it was Chocolate. He was making smores in the microwave and we were rolling on the kitchen floor.
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Hmph! 
… As a member of the more stoic and serious older generation, I would find that remark to be rather insulting and offensive if it were not for the fact there is some amount of truth to it. Now, GET OFF MY LAWN, you annoying little whipper-snapper!
Oh, great… That figures. 
… Now I gotta make a special trip to the pharmacy to get another pack. Grrr… Oh, wait! Do you still have any of those rotten pumpkin guts left over from the last Fall Festival? That stuff makes Ex-Lax seem like Imodium AD.
Hey mister you said you would pay me $5 to mow your lawn! How can I do that if you tell me to get off the lawn mister? Well gosh golly gee wilackers I’ll tell you mister!
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Oh. Was that YOU?.. grumble-grumble… (removing glasses… using hem of t-shirt to wipe lenses… putting glasses back on)… Ahh, horse-hockey! All you sniffling crybaby brats look alike to me… (removing five crumpled dollar bills from t-shirt pocket)… Here! Now go cut my damn grass! And then GET OFF MY LAWN!
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When we were kids, there was a little family market about 3 blocks from our house that we called the “little store”. They had a huge selection of candy, gum, ice cream, and ice cold soda in glass bottles. Our mom would occasionally give us some change so we could walk to the store(who lets their kids do this now?) and get something.
If you had a quarter, you were loaded. My favorite thing was a bottle of DADS root beer, a 3-musketeers bar, and some bubble gum, the colored round ones in the clear plastic. I loved the sour grape and sour apple bubble gum.
My sisters always got something different like ice cream or a bottle of Pepsi, or sunflower seeds.
I remember when Bazooka bubble gum was a penny a piece, along with individual packets of sixlets.
I moved out of my parents house when we got married in '82, and that store is still there.
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One of the other things I learned from my dad was how to do maintenance on the family cars. He had me help him every time he changed the oil or flushed the cooling system on one of their cars. I took over and started doing this before I was old enough to drive.
I remember being the one who started the truck when we were finished, it was so cool doing that long before I had my license.
I was doing all of the maintenance and most of the repairs on the family fleet by the time I was in high school. The younger generations can’t change their own flat tire, or even check the oil in their cars, it’s pathetic.
Our son and son-in-law are partners in a successful local IT company, and know all the ins and outs in the high-tech world, but neither one of them knows anything about cars.
I’ve been a car fanatic since I was a kid, and will gladly admit being computer ignorant, but I’ll help them with their cars in exchange for free IT work when the need arises.
You can include me in your grumpy old man club, the kids today don’t know what a real job is. Sitting at a desk all day on a computer isn’t very labor intensive, driving a truck and delivering the supplies and furniture they need to do their “job” is.
Try handing them a hammer or a shovel, they don’t even know how to use one. I’ve seen videos of people driving Teslas trying to put gas in them at a gas station, or taking it to Jiffy-Lube to get the oil changed. Jesus fucking christ, how can you be so fucking clueless?
These are the same dweebs that fell for the chrome muffler bearings gag. The world needs fewer colleges and more trade schools, or society is in big trouble.
Just my old geezer opinion.
By age 7 or 8 I was able to operate a riding lawnmower and a push-mower. Even cooler, though, when I was 8 or 9 my Grandaddy would let me drive his car around in the open field area behind our apartment in the projects. All my little friends would pile in as I drove them around. I was the coolest kid in the projects! 
By the time I was ten, he had me driving out on the open road. I literally had to sit on a couple of phone books and look THROUGH the steering wheel to see where I was going. He would sit in the passenger seat chain-smoking and telling me where to turn and when to speed up and slow down. Miles and miles on narrow two-lane country roads dominated by fleets of coal trucks, massive potholes, and blind curves and hills. I still regularly drive on those same roads nowadays. The only difference is there are practically no coal trucks now and fewer potholes. 
By the time I went to take my driving test for my driver’s license at age 16, I was practically a veteran driver. And, yes, I could easily change a tire and change the oil in the car long before then.
Now THAT is my kind of humor!
Pumpkin guts? Pumpkin guts? Leeettsss seeee… Checking the closet now… Hmmm…
Dead horse… noooooo. Empty bottle of vodka… nooo… chain saw? Oh yeah, I was supposed to cut up the horse and take it out of the closet to make room for the cow, Where in the fuck did that cow go? Aww fuck! I probably cut up the wrong animal, no wonder I haven’t seen any milk around here in months. Hmmmm? Let me seeee…
Socks? Really stiff socks? I wonder what those were used for? Oh, fuck! They are stuck to the Penthouse magazine and that’s stuck to a pair of pantyhose and those are stuck to … the dead horse? What the fuck? Horses don’t wear pantyhose? That’s just weird. What was I looking for? … Oh yea! Pumpkin guts…
Hey, this may take a while. I’ll let you know if I find any. Hmmm… Penthouse magazine? I haven’t seen that issue in a long time. (closet door closes.)
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Ohhhhh! THAT’S where those have been! Phew! I had given up hope of ever seeing them aga-… Oh shit. 
Uhhh, errrr, uhhh… What I meant was, uh… DAMN, COG! What kind of crazy-nasty shit you been doin’ in your closet, you perverted primate?
Oh that is so bad…you should try working a computer help desk or volunteer at a Repair Cafe and see how many clueless boomers my age come in with the dumbest questions or the wrong cords jammed into the wrong sockets. Hopeless. The same people on videos who think Ray comfort is an intellectual genius and Bewitched was an accurate representation of American life…
Society needs more compulsory aged care facilities than electric vehicles I guess or we are in real big trouble.
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…(slowly raising hand at back of room)… Uhhhh, that would be me.
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lol other than driving their parents nuts?
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Don’t worry millennials my age are just as hopeless. Had a broken start button on a machine, the button had literally came loose and fell inside the panel. So what do you think the operator would do?
A) Lock out the machine and fill out a maintenance request form
B) Fix it himself with the proper tools
C) Stab a screwdriver into the panel where the button use to be and electrocute himself.
If you guessed C) congratulations
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Well, holy shit. Doesn’t surprise me a bit, though. Let me guess… He forgot to use a hammer, right? How stupid! After all, EVERYBODY knows you must use a hammer when sticking a screwdriver into a potential electrical hazard. It’s just plain common sense! Damn, what an idiot… (shaking my damn head)…
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I just can’t fathom why an hourly employee would feel the need to have to operate a machine that is clearly broken. What kind of life saving part are you making that sticking a screwdriver into the panel to get to the start button?
This person was not paid per piece, just a flat hourly rate. Make 10 parts or 10,000 parts and get paid the same. It boggles my mind how much fear employees live in from their employers. You would swear these people are hostages, like there isn’t another single job to be had out there.
Maybe I’m young and naive, but I have never been so desperate to keep a job I would risk a chance of death to keep it.
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Let me run a real-world scenario past you. Here in Toronto there are many Filipino immigrants. There are generally from very low income neighborhoods and must support a large family. In Toronto their pay is decent, although brutal for illegal immigrants being paid under the table.
So what do you do? Work brutal hours in a shit job that pays poorly, or no job at all?
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See? This is why “Boomers” are so hateful towards you whippersnappers. No work ethic whatsoever. You should be willing to do whatever it takes to make your masters even richer than they already are. Evidently you do not understand the degree to which they are deserving of your undying servitude and fealty…(pay no attention to the fact that I rejected any and all of this Flotsum by the time I was eighteen…or the man behind the curtain)
Edit for spider silk
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