And THIS is Why I Hate the Elderly

Why can't you just die already!?

Not to be insensitive, but you old people have been gumming up the works for some time now. The problem is that you are impeding my progress to accomplish important things without making any positive donations of your own. I'm in that mood again, so you may want to double up on your meds for this one.
I can't even go into a supermarket for a bag of chips and a roll of TP without coming out of there with a fucking ZZ Top beard. Ethel, if it's going to take you 45 minutes to write out a check, either let me go ahead of you or send someone competent in. The next old bag that looks at a pen and says 'crazy newfangled gadgets' gets one in the knees.

"Hey, this TV has a typewriter hooked to it!"

I'm not trying to be a jerk, but being demented is just like man-on-man sodomy. I don't care if you do it at your house, but don't let it involve me.
And it turns out, you're not just confused and slow, you're dangerous. As of 2002, drivers 75 years and older have higher rates of fatal motor vehicle crashes than drivers in other age groups except teenagers. That's scary enough, but then consider this. Teens grow out of being teens, you just stay being fucking old. So it would be safe to nip this in the bud and preemptively take your licenses at age 65.


"Did you get a description of the driver?"
"Yeah, his face looked like an antique baseball glove."

People 75 years and older have the highest pedestrian death rates per 100,000 people. It's fine if you only hurt yourself. But running over a person? C'mon, it's not like a missle was bearing down on you and you couldn't get out of the way. It was a fucking guy on foot. Jesus Christ. I can picture it happening to me: I'm crossing the road to cash my paycheck, which will put gas in my car, so I can work and pay taxes to allow you to live in your government subsidized housing and eek out another miserable few months of low-quality life, and you run me over.
Which brings me to another thing. Just because you suck at everything EXCEPT fucking up stories, doesn't mean you can be crotchity. I know it's a pain in the ass that you have no idea what your bowels are doing, but your misfortune shouldn't have to be my misfortune. If I want to hear complaining, bitching, and general frustration, I'll tune into Air America. At least I won't have to look at the people.


Did you do your makeup without a mirror again?

And to show you that I am a compassionate chap, we would like to give you your own state. That's right, all persons over 65 are hereby ordered to live in Florida. It's going to be great, you can do what ever you wish there. 24 hour beano games, Matlock-theme crosswords, all the figs and prunes you can eat. There's one catch though: we're knocking down all the hospitals. Those of us who don't waste society's resourses need them up here.

In conclusion, you hate me, I hate you, but I'm stronger and smarter. Hell, I can even work the remote to my television without having to call someone to help me.

Now get in there, and shut the fuck up.