A Quick Wit

Despite being a card carrying member of the Curmudgeon Societé Generale, a group not widely viewed as a laugh riot, I have some very witty, clever, funny friends who have helped sustain me lo these many years.

Sadly, they too have aged along with me. And are suffering from a variety of old age ills...along with me. In past Repors, I have mentioned how conversations too often veer towards shared medical maladies and comparing medications and the like. Such are the joys of aging.

I've also noticed that words don't come to me as quickly as they used to - one often pauses in the middle of a conversation while our addled brain searches for the word we were intending to use.

For these witty friends, they find it's hard to be funny when they can't remember the right words for the punch line in real time.

Bench Seats

What's all this crap I hear about bench seats no longer being available in cars? Even in Buicks! Curmudgeons are up in arms over this development - or should I say regression?

Many curmudgeons have had dates in their life, and therefore fond memories of bench seats in cars. Your date could slide in close and you could surreptitiously sneak your arm around her while you acted cool driving her to the movies. Sadly, she could also cower in the far corner of that seat just as easily.

Nonetheless, bench seats were an essential part of growing up. And now? Shift knobs, consoles, cup holders and all manner of crap gets in the way. Probably some insidious plot by the Japanese because their cars were always too small.

Burning Leaves

As the beauty of fall (we say that despite the overwhelming depression we feel that summer is over) envelopes us, we curmudgeons are all agreed - where the hell is the smell of burning leaves? That was the core of fall - it surrounded high school football games, Halloween and sustained us on into Thanksgiving.

Today? Nada. Loud town vacuum trucks poking along the roadside at a snails pace mucking up traffic. Back in the day, leaf piles would shrink roads just like heavy snowstorms plowed to the sides still do. But the namby-pamby tree hugger crowd whined about pollution and such and in one fell swoop eradicated an incredibly indelible association with fall and youth.

And, Lord knows, curmudgeons can always use a dose of youth.

Leftovers

Thanksgiving leftovers are apparently a big deal - after eating your food, your relatives gleefully accept doggie bags, and you end up going through nearly a week of similar dinners, turkey sandwiches, and finally turkey soup. At least, that's what transpires in this curmudgeon's home.

And I'm not alone. Despite awe-inspiring waistlines, curmudgeon's are, in general, quite picky eaters. And a week of turkey-related dining is not high on our lists.

Especially when our local grocery store gives us a free turkey if we spend a certain amount there during November, which isn't too difficult when you're buying Thanksgiving dinner for all your relatives.

Today, it's Turkey à la King. Oh joy.

Thanksgiving

I read a lot of science fiction. It's not Curmudgeon Handbook required reading, I happen to enjoy perceptive and creative views of the future, alternate realities, and alien life. It can be quite illuminating.

Take a short story - set in the future - I once read about the Christmas season. It was starting with its usual bang just after Labor Day. And guess what? We're on that very path as I speak.

When I read that story, Black Friday was yet to be born. Stores started stocking Christmas decorations and playing Christmas music sometime after Thanksgiving. Black Friday, of course, changed all that. Today we have the initial rush Thanksgiving evening (the idiots are done with our meal, nodding off in front of the big game, let's go shopping).

We are on the march to a September start of the season - mark my words, and those of a perceptive science fiction writer. . And guess what? We're on that very path as I speak.