The Ornery, Old Man Strikes Again ¤Frankenstein¤

I remember a time when condiments were simple. We had mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup and barbeque sauce. That was it. Now, I keep hearing about Ranch this and dijon that. What's going on here? Don't tell me that tastes have evolved because they haven't. The fact is that people are just whiny and dissatisfied now with anything for some reason. Maybe their mommies should have left them in Romper Room where they belonged with their bologna and mustard sandwiches. I tried that Ranch stuff one time and it has no business anywhere except on salads. That's it. Ketchup goes on French fries and fish sticks and nowhere else. It can be okay on meatloaf but that's the only exception.

What's all of this that I keep hearing about vegetarians? If the meat should be left on the cow, why does it so often end up on my plate? I don't know about you but I like it that way and I'm sure that will never change. Look me in the eye and tell me that you can eat a pear and get all of the nutrients that you can get out of a steak. You can't do that, can you?

Yeah, I'm retired and I know what it's like to be on a fixed income and I'm sick of hearing all of the fogey's whining incessantly about it. The way I see it, a fixed income is a lot better than none and that's the boat my grandson, Jasper, now finds himself in. The job market is lousy and he's pretty much a moron but he still has to have a way to make a living. I'm a vetaran and I worked at the factory here for forty years. I have my pensions and there's also Social Security so I might not be rich but I'm not hurting, either. When a person gets to that point, it makes them want to savor life and I think that everybody my age does that. We take our own sweet time. The unwritten rules are that the speed limit is ten and I love to go to stores just so that I can walk really slow and get in everybody's way. I like to block the aisle and stare at sardines for an eternity. I'll go through the express line and write a check after I give the cashier a handful of coupons and then I'll take a full twenty minutes to question the cashier about every single thing on my receipt. Am I inconsiderate? No. I'm retired. It's my job now to be a royal pain in your butt. Am I doing a good job? Get over it, folks, and don't fall for that nonsense. If you don't like it, write to your Congressman. I know that I'm going to. I drive like a freaking maniac. Why do I do that? I do it because I can. I'm not going to be arrested. Well, I won't be while Franklin D. Roosevelt is still the President. You can take that to the bank.

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