Don’t want to read this essay? Fine. I’ll read it to you:
I’ve always been somewhat crochety — especially about things that no one else seems bothered by. But as of last week, I’m a card-carrying member of the AARP, so I’m leaning into it.
Let’s start with language. All those terms that have crept into daily usage without my permission.
Take “Old-school.” Meaning from the last century. The 1900s. Remember them? Like “an old-school iPod.” “An old-school flip phone.” “An old-school MySpace profile.”
Worse still: “Old-Timey.” Remember when that meant the Gay (18)90’s? Bustles. Handlebar moustaches. Vaudeville.
Now it refers to VHS tapes and Duran Duran.
And the improper use of “do.” As in “I’ll do a macha latte with almond milk.” It’s not an activity. It’s not a drug. It’s an overpriced, heated beverage. Order it properly.
Also “grab.” “Let me grab a coffee.” Why grab it? Seems so violent. Are you storming Starbucks? Just have a coffee. Or fine, do one.
And while we’re at it:
Men in baseball caps. Indoors. In nice restaurants. Not baseball players. Not even former baseball players. Just… bros.
Men who are perpetually unshaven. Not hobos or drunks. Anchormen. Meteorologists. Senators. Hairy, unkempt. And wearing baseball caps.
Shower shoes worn outside of a locker room. Even worse — with tube socks. Come on.
Tattoos. Sure, under some circumstances, they can be charming or romantic. Like in an old-timey carnival side-show or a seaport. But when every living creature has a butterfly on their ankle or a Chinese character scrawled across their tailbone, it’s no longer a sign of what a creative, nutty iconoclast you are.
(Sorry, I know this is super-crochety. Most of my relatives under 50 are inked. Including the baby.)
Vinyl. Why? I lived through records. I remember the scratches. The skips. The sagging milk crates. We celebrated when we replaced them. And now they’re back? What’s next —chamber pots? Bowler hats? Newspapers?
People typing on their phones, while walking, while driving, while everywhere, always.
Which is ridiculous because that’s what I’m doing right now. While I’m driving. And shaving.
Your pal,
Danny
P.S. You’ll probably hate this essay. I know my wife will. But she’s younger than me and doesn’t know what’s proper. I’m old-school.
P.P.S. And stay off my lawn.
I totally get it, Danny. While we’re at it, what is up with businesses needing our constant approval? Every time I go to the dentist I am polite, I pay them, I say “thank you.” Isn’t that enough? Before I get out to my car I have a text and an email asking me to please rate and review them. Every. Time. Maybe that’s why everyone is always typing on their phones - they are rating and reviewing.
Thanks for keeping it real, Danny. I rate this essay two thumbs up. 👍👍
"I remember when this was all fields... " I read this essay in my email and giggled, then saw you said about Substack so I jumped over here before you could push me.👋🏼