Those golden years.
Guess what, they’re not so much golden as tarnished. Our joints get stiffer, bladders smaller and our tolerance for other people having fun vanishes. Why don’t you damn kids get those skateboards off my lawn and go hang out at the tattoo parlor with your army of pierced buddies! The other day a Ford F250 pickup pulled up next to me blaring rap music so loud that with each bass note the tires jumped off’n the ground. Dang near threw the dog off the hay bale in the back. Go figure, red-neck kids... Sign in to see full entry.