Go Viral

Have you noticed that old people never go viral? Never, ever. And whose fault is that? Let me see now, which social media site is to blame? Enny Menny Minny Moe, catch a tweeter by the...Twitter Toe. That's right! It's all Twitterdeedum's fault. Not Facebook. Not Linkedin. These sites are not ignoring us because when I twerked a sexy selfie and posted it on their sites, I received fifty likes in seven minutes and a hundred requests to play CornSmash. Old people like selfies of old people twerking on top a bedpan. However, when I tried twerking titillating tweets on Twitter, twenty-two twits (that's Twitter's tweeters) stopped texting me.

Does it upset me that young people have left Facebook because they don't want to be cyber social with the elderly? It's bad enough that they have to share the sidewalks, streets, and shopping malls with us, but cyberspace? No way! There's nothing about "old" that youth can relate to. Absolutely nothing. Not the music. (Get out the record player, honey, so young Jason here can listen to our favorite Lawrence Welk songs). Not the humor. (Say, have you heard that Bob Hope joke where a farmer's daughter falls into a pigpen...oh you have? Okay, never mind). Not the style. (Ethel, put on those white polyester pants. You know, the ones that hide your butt crack.) Not the politics. (If you ask me, our problems all started when Teddy Roosevelt invaded Cuba.) And definitely not the look. (Old does not appeal to youth, unless, that is, Old happens to have a whole lot of money. Yes sir. That green stuff looks real good on Old.)

Does it bother me that absolutely nothing we, the SCA (Senior Citizens of America--not to be confused with that other group, Society for Crazy Arborists) do is considered viral worthy? We never go viral. What about that sixty-nine-year-old-lady in Frogsbreath, Georgia, who rescued her cat, Razorclaws, from a giant toad, only to be slashed to death later that day by Razorclaws? What about that seventy-something man who, in one weekend, climbed all the way to the very top of a fourteen foot ladder that was leaning against his house? When asked why he did it, he said "Because it was there." And let's not forget that old lady who painted all of those pictures of Grandma Moses from the biblical stories about Moses and his Grandmother.

Knock! Knock!

Who's there?

It's time for...

It's time for who.

It's time for you to take your meds so you can rejoin the real world. 

And who are you?

I'm youth. I'm the one who will be making the decisions from now on. Your services and opinions are no longer needed or appreciated.  It is now up to me to decide what and who is relevant. If you follow those signs over there they will take you to the EXIT. And please, when you leave, don't let the door hit your flabby behind on the way out.

But, but, but...I have money.

MAKE WAY FOR THE RELEVANT LADY WITH NO BUTT CRACK IN THE WHITE POLYESTER PANTS.


The youths in this story do not speak for all youths in America, so don't get your white polyester panties in a wad. It's old lady humor. I don't expect you young folk to get it. Say, have you heard the Bob Hope joke about the pig who had nonconsensual sex with a farmer's dau... . Oh, you have? Okay then. Never mind.