Feels like just yesterday I was half ass-ing a post at the end of January by commenting on Marc’s birthday. But, history repeats and I have a startling lack of self-respect for my writing ability and a near unfathomable depth of loathing for you poor suckers who think I may say something funny one of these days. How else would you explain my aspirations to keep this out of control train wreck of a website continually updated?

In any case, I’d like to celebrate Marc’s birthday the best way I know how: pointing out what an old fart he is at the ripe age of 28. No longer the spry, young pup, he is now a leather faced ghoul of a man, clinging on desperately to the shreds of youth as they pass through his bony fingers. As he places one foot in the grave, I hope I can offer some solace in these his waning years:

Denim’s the pits – So our campaign to ban pants altogether failed. C’est la vie. I say ride those suckers up to your armpits and completely buck the “low riders” trend. The alternative is to let your slacks fall to the floor, but I’m informed by the internet you’d be “lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground”. You can also get away with calling them pantaloons without admonishment.

I also know of a llama who does windows.

Monkey see, monkey do – Despite what the inbred masses of West Virginia would tell you, the civilized world believes in evolution. Every year older you get, the better chance you’ll see our chimpanzee brethren take up their rightful place in butlering. The day we see a monkey fling his poo and immediately clean it up is just around the corner, with its odds approaching 1 on a long enough timeline. If that’s not a reason to rage against the dying of the light, I don’t know what is.

Steel hips in a steel cage – Van Damme’s kickboxing at 50, which is clearly the new 30. Being 28, that would mean you’re only about 8 years old in terms of martial arts skills, so your fighting prowess can only improve over time. As JCVD’s alias “the muscles from Brussels” has garnered him fame, so too might a pseudonym help build your mythos. I suggest taking up the mantle of “The Curry Fury”, “The New Delhi Devastator” or the “Calcutta Clubber”. Peaceful civil disobedience my ass, Gandhi.

Grave Robber – Speaking of “steel”-ing, Nick Swardson’s right, get old and just rob the shit outta places. When you’re 90, you should be going 90. Right now at 28, though, you’re not going to get so much as a speeding ticket except driving around a hospital zone.

Golden Years = Golden Showers – Only two groups can void bowels and bladder alike without condemnation: Old people and children. Your perpetual 5 o’clock shadow excludes the latter. Break 65 and you can break wind wherever you like. Personally, I’d like to poop myself in the White House, what with secret service scrambling to handle a “dirty bomb”. I guess that “depends” on what you dream is, though.

Drugs – I may be wrong, but when you’re a senior citizen, the government gives you money to get whacked the fuck out on all sorts of sweet prescriptions. Who’s going to question an 80 year old needing a pound of your best medical grade marijuana?

Creeping out kids – Since you’re now back in the South, I don’t think you can get away with being an outright asshole (unless you’re in the KKK and I somehow don’t see there being a strong Indian chapter). You might as well go for the asshole neighbor shtick. Pop a couple footballs that land in your yard, sic your dog on trespassing kids, or go for a casual nude stroll on a Tuesday morning if you’re feeling particularly saucy.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 29th, 2010 at 7:50 am and is filed under headlines. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.