I know I am going to hell for this, but I can’t stand so-called “senior citizens”. Reserve my upper management spot in Lucifer’s den, because I’m arriving first class with a case of Boone’s Farm and underage hookers on my lap.

Fuck senior citizens.

I dislike them because they think that just because they’ve made it past 65, the entire fucking universe OWES them. On one hand, they cling to their independence like their Poli-Grip clings to their dentures–usually long past the point where they actually deserve it. But on the other hand, the elderly want all kinds of special treatment. It’s like, once you hit 65, you automatically lose whatever concept you once had of OTHER people.

If they’re in a grocery store and can’t find something, they complain. If you are waiting on them in a restaurant, do not be surprised if they complain about how expensive the Filet Mignon is, how the soup is too hot and then pay for their lunch in change. They will also complain about the increasingly high number of “brown people” everywhere. Yet, they smell like impending death, and justify their retirement years by existing unnecessarily. At least brown people work or bomb things. Old folks don’t do shit, except shit their pants and whine like toddlers with a bad case of attention deficit disorder.

Have you really seen a useful old person? The Wal-Mart greeter position is OK and all, but they can’t even do that right without stuttering and getting confused easily when I ask them simple questions like, “I’m fine, thanks, what store is this?”.

“Uhh… uhhhh…. It’s a …. uhhh…”

Thanks for nothing, you soon to be dead waste of oxygen.

If geriatrics go to a theater where there is no “senior discount,” they complain. However, if there is a senior discount and you ask to see their ID, they complain. They will talk loudly all through the movie, complaining about how loud it is. If you are standing behind them in line they will fart, loudly, and act completely innocent while you are gasping for mercy and attempting to withstand the prune-laced nasal odor of impending death that is clogging your nostrils and forcing your nervous system into cardiac arrest.

And the driving. Oh, the driving. The goddamn driving! 

I can’t fathom how the DMV still allows the elderly to operate *any* vehicle. If they cannot walk without the aid of a walker or cane, then they shouldn’t be able to push a gas pedal. Besides, nobody wants to see old people anyway. They smell like dying patients in a cancer ward. My dream job would be killing old people with a pitchfork for insurance money.

I once saw what appeared to be a 100 year old man backing out of a parking space. He did not look behind him, not even once. He caused all thru traffic to halt. I laughed at his follies with my usual mockery and disdain for the elderly. Somehow, through his cataracts and poor driving ability, he saw me cackling like a drunken hyena. This prompted him to pull up next to me, park his car in moving traffic, and attempt to confront me.

Keyword: “attempt”.

He “attempted” to lunge at me with the vigor of a restless lion well past his prime only to be thrusted back into his car violently, probably rupturing a blood vessel or cracking a hip. I say “attempt” because he was thwarted by the ominous seat belt that was still securing his soon to be zombified remains to the seat of his Oldsmobile. His difficulty unhinging the seat belt probably led to his lack of ass kicking that he thought I deserved. Seconds later, grandpa drove off without incident and probably accidentally killed a busload of nuns.

But atleast he was wearing his seatbelt. Old people can follow rules, so here’s a rule for them:

Drink bleach. It’s good for regularity.