There’s an unpublicized danger lurking in our society, and something needs to be done about it before more innocent people suffer.
I’m not talking about sorority hazing, but rather a problem more widespread and worrisome; a problem that grows larger with each passing year.
I’m talking, of course, about octogenarian drivers.
Our population is quickly aging. According to the most recent census, by the year 2010 there will be two billion American drivers over the age of eighty.
Okay, I’m exaggerating slightly, but I do so in order to make the following point: We need to keep an eye on our rearview mirrors.
Only yesterday, I was running late for an appointment when I found myself stuck behind a slow-moving senior in a late model Buick Century.
How do I know the driver was an octogenarian? Because he drove the entire way with his right turn signal blinking.
That and the fact he maintained a steady 35 mph in a 50 mph zone.
With heavy traffic the opposite direction, moving around this wrinkled demon on the two-lane road was simply out of the question. Instead, I passed the time by counting backwards from one million. Slowly, and in Spanish.
But it’s not just the speed at which they drive their Lincoln Towncars and Chrysler Newports that makes them dangerous. You see, octogenarians no longer fear the Grim Reaper. Heck, the afterlife is probably a first-rate retirement home in their eyes.
As evidence, I recall a ride I took in a small commuter plan some years ago. The twenty-four-seater was scheduled to take me between the Florida cities of Jacksonville and Gainesville, then continue on to the senior Mecca of Tampa.
When I boarded the plane, every seat but mine was filled by someone’s grandparent, a graying man or woman smelling strangely of peppermint.
Cool, I thought, no crying babies on this flight.
Then we took off in the middle of a thunderstorm, and a short while later the plane took a direct hit from a bolt of lightening.
Suddenly, we began to descend at an alarming rate, and I was convinced this was to be my final flight.
Looking around the violently shaking plane, however, I saw nothing but smiling, happy faces. I think one was even whistling.
After the pilot managed to pull us out of the nosedive and we landed safely at our destination, I swear I heard one of the AARP members say, “Now I’m gonna have to pay that damn doctor’s bill.”
Proving that octogenarians are simply unfazed by the so-called “bitter end.”
That’s why, when driving, they make turns without first checking to see if traffic has cleared. Apparently, they’ve earned the right to take your lane whenever the mood strikes them, so you better just yield.
I suppose it also explains why they never even glance in their rearview mirrors when backing up. If a mailbox goes down, then it must have had it coming.
And it explains why you never see anyone under the age of fifty riding shotgun with an octogenarian driver. They’re always in the backseat, and often times they’re wearing some type of helmet.
So, when an octogenarian offers you a ride, take my advice and respectfully decline. Especially, if you catch him whistling a happy tune.
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.
Monday, September 22, 2003
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Different strokes for California folks
Not too long ago my eight-year-old son asked me if we could move to California. A natural born performer with multiple talents, he had discovered that Hollywood is the epicenter of the entertainment world.
Of course, a West Coast address would also be beneficial for his old man, whose pursuit of a screenwriting career is saddled with a debilitating handicap – residence in suburban Detroit.
Still, my wife and I have given the matter serious consideration and, after weighing the pros and cons, we decided to stay put.
This did not sit well with my youngest: "How do you expect me to get a part in the next ‘Spy Kids’ movie?"
He will be happy when he learns that a recent development has got me thinking differently.
You see, I really want to vote in California’s gubernatorial recall election, which is scheduled for October 7.
In case you just snapped out of a lengthy coma – does Hallmark make a card for such occasions? – the slate of candidates who have thrown their hats into the ring (in the case of one candidate, make that a watermelon) would fill the booking agent at the Conan O’Brien show with envy.
First up on the ballot is the "Terminator" himself, Ahhhnold Schwahhhzenegger. I understand that "Vote for me, or I will break you!" is his official campaign slogan. And every campaign speech is destined to end with "I’ll be back!"
Also on the ballot are Hustler Magazine publisher Larry Flynt (he describes himself as "a smut peddler who cares"), porn star Mary Carey (an anti-gun activist, she announced a "porno-for-pistols" program), Hollywood personality Angelyne (author of the intellectual thriller, "The Bra that ate LA") and obnoxious comedian and fruit abuser Gallagher.
But the guy who would get my vote, hands-down, is former child star and current security guard, Gary Coleman. Famous for his role as Arnold Jackson on the 1980s hit, "Different Strokes," the diminutive Coleman now pops up regularly on "Star Dates," a reality train-wreck show in which ordinary people go on dates with washed-up celebs.
I imagine a debate between Ahhhnold and Gary Coleman might go something like this:
Moderator: "Mr. Schwarzenegger, please make an opening statement."
Ahhnold: "Alright. Vote for me because I will pump up California’s economy."
Coleman: "Speaking up pumping something up, what about all those claims of sexual harrassment by your former assistants."
Ahhnold: "Hey, shorty, at least I can afford to hire assistants to harrass."
Coleman: "Good point, Willis."
Ahhnold: "Willis?"
Moderator: "Okay, okay. Mr. Coleman, will you please make your opening statment."
Coleman: "Gotcha, chief. All you people should vote for me because I’ll reduce your taxes."
Ahhnold: "I heard your tax relief plan is based on height."
Coleman: "Yep. The taller the taxpayer, the higher the tax bracket."
Ahhnold: "What about beautiful muscles? Do you get a deduction if you have them?"
Coleman: "Nope."
Ahhnold: "Then I will squash your tax plan – and you too!"
Coleman: "Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?"
Coleman proceeds to mug for the camera, while Ahhnold looks behind him for this mysterious "Willis" fellow.
With that, Coleman would be declared the winner and move on to debate the merits of physical comedy with Gallagher.
A talented screenwriter couldn’t make up something this good. It’s better than a "Jerry Springer" episode in which husbands confront wives who have been working as undercover FBI strippers while secretly engaging in illicit affairs with their transvestite third cousins.
Only in America can voters recall a career politician and replace him with the "Govinator". I imagine many Minnesotans are rejoicing at the prospect that this development may lead the rest of the country to forget the fact that a professional wrestler occupies the governor’s mansion in their state.
All of which has me thinking that my wife and I should reconsider our position on family residency. After all, I just read that Gary Coleman is looking for a speech writer.
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.
Of course, a West Coast address would also be beneficial for his old man, whose pursuit of a screenwriting career is saddled with a debilitating handicap – residence in suburban Detroit.
Still, my wife and I have given the matter serious consideration and, after weighing the pros and cons, we decided to stay put.
This did not sit well with my youngest: "How do you expect me to get a part in the next ‘Spy Kids’ movie?"
He will be happy when he learns that a recent development has got me thinking differently.
You see, I really want to vote in California’s gubernatorial recall election, which is scheduled for October 7.
In case you just snapped out of a lengthy coma – does Hallmark make a card for such occasions? – the slate of candidates who have thrown their hats into the ring (in the case of one candidate, make that a watermelon) would fill the booking agent at the Conan O’Brien show with envy.
First up on the ballot is the "Terminator" himself, Ahhhnold Schwahhhzenegger. I understand that "Vote for me, or I will break you!" is his official campaign slogan. And every campaign speech is destined to end with "I’ll be back!"
Also on the ballot are Hustler Magazine publisher Larry Flynt (he describes himself as "a smut peddler who cares"), porn star Mary Carey (an anti-gun activist, she announced a "porno-for-pistols" program), Hollywood personality Angelyne (author of the intellectual thriller, "The Bra that ate LA") and obnoxious comedian and fruit abuser Gallagher.
But the guy who would get my vote, hands-down, is former child star and current security guard, Gary Coleman. Famous for his role as Arnold Jackson on the 1980s hit, "Different Strokes," the diminutive Coleman now pops up regularly on "Star Dates," a reality train-wreck show in which ordinary people go on dates with washed-up celebs.
I imagine a debate between Ahhhnold and Gary Coleman might go something like this:
Moderator: "Mr. Schwarzenegger, please make an opening statement."
Ahhnold: "Alright. Vote for me because I will pump up California’s economy."
Coleman: "Speaking up pumping something up, what about all those claims of sexual harrassment by your former assistants."
Ahhnold: "Hey, shorty, at least I can afford to hire assistants to harrass."
Coleman: "Good point, Willis."
Ahhnold: "Willis?"
Moderator: "Okay, okay. Mr. Coleman, will you please make your opening statment."
Coleman: "Gotcha, chief. All you people should vote for me because I’ll reduce your taxes."
Ahhnold: "I heard your tax relief plan is based on height."
Coleman: "Yep. The taller the taxpayer, the higher the tax bracket."
Ahhnold: "What about beautiful muscles? Do you get a deduction if you have them?"
Coleman: "Nope."
Ahhnold: "Then I will squash your tax plan – and you too!"
Coleman: "Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?"
Coleman proceeds to mug for the camera, while Ahhnold looks behind him for this mysterious "Willis" fellow.
With that, Coleman would be declared the winner and move on to debate the merits of physical comedy with Gallagher.
A talented screenwriter couldn’t make up something this good. It’s better than a "Jerry Springer" episode in which husbands confront wives who have been working as undercover FBI strippers while secretly engaging in illicit affairs with their transvestite third cousins.
Only in America can voters recall a career politician and replace him with the "Govinator". I imagine many Minnesotans are rejoicing at the prospect that this development may lead the rest of the country to forget the fact that a professional wrestler occupies the governor’s mansion in their state.
All of which has me thinking that my wife and I should reconsider our position on family residency. After all, I just read that Gary Coleman is looking for a speech writer.
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.
