One of the great things about growing as insanely old as I am about to be next week, is the youngins start asking you for advice.
“Gramps,” they say, “tell us how we should live our lives.”
I take a long draw on my pipe, put my teeth back in, and tell them.
“First of all, you need to remember to talk more and listen less. Other people are meaningless and evil and nothing you will learn from them is worthwhile. Talking is fun. Listening is for rubes.
“Second, you ever hear the expression ‘Follow your bliss?’ Screw that noise. Bliss is for stoners. The point in life is to have the most shit before you die. Pick a career that lets you screw other people out of their money. You need a pile of it.
“Third, women are like money. The more of them you have, the better off you are. If you’re a woman, you shouldn’t collect other women. You should collect shoes or ponies or pink dresses. I never had girls, so I don’t know what they want.
“Finally, old people aren’t really all that wise. Old things die for a reason: they get in the way of the young and the new. The elderly cling to outmoded ideals and philosophies that hold us all back.
“Now you kids run off and play with your fancy toys and leave me alone. It’s nap time and then the missus and me are going to head off to the senior citizen’s home. It’s euthanasia night!”
Man, I’m getting old.