Sunday, March 05, 2006
The Older Gentleman
THE OLDER GENTLEMAN
The ideal of a young man when I was a young man was lithe and muscular and clean shaven an athletic looking person. Now it’s what the magazine advertisers call Heroin Chic. The scrawny slightly bent spine guy with stubble hiding behind a certain level of illiteracy like he is all the cooler for it. Throw in his gum smacking nosed ringed hoochie momma and the picture of Americana is complete minus the pitchforks.
Yesterday I waltzed into this place that sells rims for wheels because my Tundra truck has these cheesy “whack back on with a rubber mallet” ghetto wheel covers. I hate them!
So H &H-Heroin and Hoochie- are the proprietors sitting at a counter with an American Racing catalogue and a cell phone. I talk to the guy who never does fully uncoil. He uses his special number to call “Catalogue Guy” and then I hear him say, ”I have this older gentleman here” and then something about “not too fancy.”
The irony of the agony is he shows me a picture of the rim but my eyesight is blurring and I can’t really tell what it looks like BUT I figure if H & H in consultation with Catalogue Guy have made this decision for me then most certainly I would be an idiot to follow their advice at a cost of one thousand dollars.
“I have to check with my mother I’ll be back, ”I say, which throws them off like they were back in high school failing remedial medieval history.
Later “this older gentleman” is down at Staples buying a spindle of CDR’s to make copies of my recently purchased old guy CD’s Morrison, Springsteen, and Young to share with my old guy friends if I can pry them loose from Traffic and Blue Oyster Cult. I walk up behind a woman sliding an all wheel drive walker and the gay check out guy asked, ”Are you two together?”
I instantly inhibit my autonomic response “No Faggot!” and calmly say, ”No but it would be o.k if we were” because I don’t want to disrespect a woman I don’t know preferring to save the moment for people I do know.
Then I’m across the street at the Sears surplus catalogue “what internet” narrow profit margin store looking at televisions because it’s what I do. The proprietor rolls up behind me in a wheel chair and says, ”All our LCD models are on the to shelf.” Then she yells across the store at another woman whose head is looking around inside a lighted 20 percent off compact refrigerator. “What’s the name of the wife of the guy named Dave who died last week from Lewes who used to work at the A & P?” I looked down at her and said, ”her name was Evelyn.” She never asked me who I was and how I knew but said, ”I never knew him but I’m pretty good friends with her. She’s still alive isn’t she?”
‘Actually she dies five years ago.”
“Are you thinking about buying a television today?” she asked.
“No actually I’m thinking about jumping off a bridge.” The lady rolled over—I mean rolled away to the tool chest section. I imagined she got up out of her chair which she just uses to get sympathy so older guys will buy LCD televisions to mount on the wall so they can use their underpowered Black and Decker drill and newly purchased stud finder.
I ended my afternoon throwing a $1.49 cent pink ball into the bay as Jesse dog played I’ll get it then drop it within 400 yards of you then you get it game.
Ho was your day?
Peace
Professor Freddogg
The ideal of a young man when I was a young man was lithe and muscular and clean shaven an athletic looking person. Now it’s what the magazine advertisers call Heroin Chic. The scrawny slightly bent spine guy with stubble hiding behind a certain level of illiteracy like he is all the cooler for it. Throw in his gum smacking nosed ringed hoochie momma and the picture of Americana is complete minus the pitchforks.
Yesterday I waltzed into this place that sells rims for wheels because my Tundra truck has these cheesy “whack back on with a rubber mallet” ghetto wheel covers. I hate them!
So H &H-Heroin and Hoochie- are the proprietors sitting at a counter with an American Racing catalogue and a cell phone. I talk to the guy who never does fully uncoil. He uses his special number to call “Catalogue Guy” and then I hear him say, ”I have this older gentleman here” and then something about “not too fancy.”
The irony of the agony is he shows me a picture of the rim but my eyesight is blurring and I can’t really tell what it looks like BUT I figure if H & H in consultation with Catalogue Guy have made this decision for me then most certainly I would be an idiot to follow their advice at a cost of one thousand dollars.
“I have to check with my mother I’ll be back, ”I say, which throws them off like they were back in high school failing remedial medieval history.
Later “this older gentleman” is down at Staples buying a spindle of CDR’s to make copies of my recently purchased old guy CD’s Morrison, Springsteen, and Young to share with my old guy friends if I can pry them loose from Traffic and Blue Oyster Cult. I walk up behind a woman sliding an all wheel drive walker and the gay check out guy asked, ”Are you two together?”
I instantly inhibit my autonomic response “No Faggot!” and calmly say, ”No but it would be o.k if we were” because I don’t want to disrespect a woman I don’t know preferring to save the moment for people I do know.
Then I’m across the street at the Sears surplus catalogue “what internet” narrow profit margin store looking at televisions because it’s what I do. The proprietor rolls up behind me in a wheel chair and says, ”All our LCD models are on the to shelf.” Then she yells across the store at another woman whose head is looking around inside a lighted 20 percent off compact refrigerator. “What’s the name of the wife of the guy named Dave who died last week from Lewes who used to work at the A & P?” I looked down at her and said, ”her name was Evelyn.” She never asked me who I was and how I knew but said, ”I never knew him but I’m pretty good friends with her. She’s still alive isn’t she?”
‘Actually she dies five years ago.”
“Are you thinking about buying a television today?” she asked.
“No actually I’m thinking about jumping off a bridge.” The lady rolled over—I mean rolled away to the tool chest section. I imagined she got up out of her chair which she just uses to get sympathy so older guys will buy LCD televisions to mount on the wall so they can use their underpowered Black and Decker drill and newly purchased stud finder.
I ended my afternoon throwing a $1.49 cent pink ball into the bay as Jesse dog played I’ll get it then drop it within 400 yards of you then you get it game.
Ho was your day?
Peace
Professor Freddogg
