Ravings of a Madman: (or Brief Anecdotes by a Guy Who Knows How You Should Be Living Your Life a Whole Lot Better Than You Do)

A New Daily Drivel Column

By Paco Quintana


Brief Bio:

I am a middle-aged elementary school teacher who lives in Queens, New York. That’s all you need to know about me. Why? Because this column is not about me, it’s about you, the general public; a thorn in my side since 1967!!

I Don’t Like Old People

O.K., before you write me off as a horrible, insensitive person, do me a favor. On any given week day (when most productive people in this country are working), get in your car and drive to your local supermarket. When you are stopped at an intersection about a block from your destination you may begin to wonder why, even though the light has changed from red to green, you are still not moving. Now, look directly in front of you at said intersection. You will see a little, old person (usually a woman, but we’ll get to that later) pushing a shopping cart across the street. This doesn’t sound like any great offense, except for the fact that she started across when the walk symbol was almost expired. Now, after you have been stopped at this intersection for twenty-five minutes you begin to think that you will be moving fairly soon. Keep on dreaming! A tiny piece of paper has fallen out of Ethel’s cart. Oblivious to the fact that she is now directly in front of an 18- wheeler, Mabel abandons her cart to pursue what turns out to be a coupon for 7 cents off Colgate toothpaste. Even though Blanche hasn’t had teeth since the Reagan administration, she pursues this coupon with reckless abandon. Since this coupon is now stuck behind your front tire, Agnes bangs her decrepit hand on your newly washed hood and indignantly motions for you to back up so that she can get her precious document (which by the way expired in May/06). Finally, Matilda retrieves her precious coupon, spits on the hood of your car, gives you the evil eye, and finishes her exodus across the street. You are now free to begin the next phase of your geriatric adventure only slightly older than Harriet was when she began her merry jaunt across the boulevard.

 As you enter the parking lot you discover an obstacle course of oldies (my cute little name for these vile, misanthropic creatures). Even though these ancient malcontents are only half the size they once were, their automobiles of choice are always twice as big as the vehicles the rest of us (whom I’ll deem society’s productive citizenry) drive. If you’re familiar with the 1972 Pontiac Bonneville, you’ll note that the hood of this automobile is slightly longer than the field of the new Meadowlands Stadium. When a 4 foot 5 inch oldie with smudge filled bifocals attempts to drive this monstrosity the result is disastrous; disastrous for us, since these odorous villains are obviously immune to injury or death.

Somehow you manage to park your vehicle and make your way into the store. Once inside you breath a sigh of relief, there are at least as many productive people in there as there are oldies. In a street brawl you may come out on top; however you suddenly remember how dirty these prehistoric cretins can fight. You don’t want to go home with a set of dentures hanging from your… well you get the picture.

After several altercations with these cantankerous, old fossils, who never get out of your way and will wrestle you to the ground for that one semi-ripe avocado, you finally make it to the checkout line and…. (Now, don’t b.s. me…..we’ve all been there, so take that stupid look off your face and start being honest with yourself; one old broad + 76 expired coupons + you = the fiery pits of Hades!!!!)

I think I’ve made my point. Now let’s get some things straight. I am a firm believer in the fact that people don’t change. That nasty, nefarious, closed minded, old bat was just as nasty, nefarious, and closed minded when she was twenty. So, what happened to all the nice people, didn’t they get old too? Well, here’s the answer to that question; no, they’re all @#$#%^ dead!!!!!!! That idiot with the big nose from Oyster Bay, Long Island got it right, “Only the good die young”.

What’s that? Some of you may be thinking, “Hey Quintana, what about the old men, you only ranted about the women?” Well to that I’ll just kindly ask you to open your eyes and look around. Do you see any old guys? Did you know you grandfather, or was he around by the time you turned ten? The answer to both of those questions is no. Why? Because there are no old men!!!! They just don’t exist. They’re basically the stuff of legends and fairy tales.

I know what you’re thinking, “Quintana, you’re horrible!!!” Well, maybe I am…in fact maybe I’m so bad that I will one day be the world’s first and only old man. But somehow I doubt it. With all those old battleaxes in front of me on the checkout line, I’ll never make it.

Quintana out!