Journal

We are living a truth stranger than fiction. I didn’t even question it when I saw a man dressed like Ignatius J. Reilly crossing Hwy 82 the other day, complete with matching plaid pants and jacket and hunting cap— earflaps down. He carried himself with an ignorant level of confidence, crossing as the signal indicated but never once looking at the traffic.
Speaking of ignorance, our coxcomb-elect is on a tear lately. Trump’s promises and/or threats (either way— lies) are coming fast and furious these days. Suspension of disbelief, to say the least… and while I feel myself caring less and less, (just like ol’ Ignatius) I do think we’re nearing the finale. You can feel the tempo increasing, and historically when society gets this top-heavy it’s time for the pitchforks to come out. Of course, nowadays it’s a lone shooter with a 3D-printed gun instead of an angry mob carrying farming tools.
Meanwhile, the scripted media is busy reminding us that murder is wrong. But we, the people, already know that. We’ve been living our lives according to the rules of polite society, playing the game fair and square and losing ground anyway. We are not the ones conducting ourselves in a disgusting manner of unaccountability and greed. A manner that puts on gross display the two tiers of American life: those who are punished for their crimes and those who are not.
If Brian Thompson had been held accountable for his insider trading deals, he would’ve been safe and sound, locked up in jail. Instead, he was shot and killed on the street in New York and the police arrested Luigi Mangione, using excessive resources and charging him with terrorism. I do feel for the NYPD. I’m sure the pressure to lock someone—anyone— up was intense, but how many people are shot in New York City annually? Why was this case held in the spotlight like no other? Because from down here it looks like an amped up judicial system for the Gotham elite and the same old slack for the rest of us.
Most Americans are just trying to live our best legal life, but as more and more of us fall through the cracks of a system that is completely rigged for profit, and with guns being so readily accessible, the good life seems surreal. And if Trump is never held accountable for his words or actions, what will happen to the rule of law? How far will these folks follow their naked emperor, all the while shaking their money-makers.
You know what makes a lot of money in America? Jail. There are more people in prison in this country than any other, and Trump’s pending white house re-entry has caused the US prison industry to boom on the stock market.
“…shares of multibillion-dollar private prison companies CoreCivic and Geo Group—which are Immigration and Customs Enforcement contractors—are up 76% and 75% since Election Day, respectively.”
Recipe for a criminal: lack of opportunity, desperation, poverty; all the elements Trumpublicans foster. They urgently care about unborn souls, but not so much after birth. They try to prevent education and acceptance whenever it relates to individuality because those are sure-fire ways to build self-esteem. They cut programs that could prevent average people’s suffering, meanwhile feeding our tax dollars to the very CEOs who cause our ailments. Trumpublicans are so busy hustling for his favor— ignoring people’s basic needs for shareholders’ sake, while creating financial insecurity with every law that takes away personal freedom— that they’ve forgotten we outnumber them. And not by a little.
So, it’s only a matter of time before desperation brings the pitchforks out. I have no doubt this story will contain a revolutionary ending. Trump’s plan to make mad money at the expense of everyday Americans will fizzle and smoke, just like all his other failed ventures. America does not suffer fools for long because no one is above the law in this land of the free and home of the brave where a person’s worth is defined by their actions, not their bank account.
“Nature has sometimes made a fool; but a coxcomb is always of man’s own making.”—Addison

A lot of people are losing the plot right now. Personally, I’m ready to smash something— here, hand me that patriarchy. Astrologically though, I feel pretty good. Apparently, the last time Pluto went through Aquarius (our favorite relegated planet began its journey on November 19th) we had a little thing called the American Revolution, as well as the French Revolution, Haitian Revolution, beginning of the Industrial Revolution… Basically we, the people, are on the precipice of a big change and personally, I think it’s about time.

When I was a kid, Elitch Gardens in Denver had a ride called the SeaDragon. It was like a giant Viking ship with several rows of seats, each side facing the other from the middle all the way back to the narrow ends where only a few people could fit, wedged in together on the bench and holding onto the bar. (This was the 1970s when safety was often sacrificed for a good time.) As the SeaDragon swung back and forth, it picked up speed and swung higher and higher up into the air. If you sat in the middle, you had a wild ride with the wind in your hair; like sitting on a huge swing set with your friends, smiling and laughing in the sun. But if you sat at the back, you went much, much higher, gasping big air as your stomach stayed above while the rest of you plummeted back towards the earth, screaming. I think about this ride a lot lately.

As you all know, I have a tendency to Chicken Little my way along in life, but lately I’ve been trying to remind myself to hum and dance as I sidestep the pieces of sky that are actively falling all around us. Look on the bright side, I tell myself, not everyone gets to live through such a transformative time. We are coming up on an about-face, that point when the SeaDragon stalls and switches direction, and I believe we are headed for a more empathetic and generous future. It’s been a long time coming, when I look around at our current state of Me First and the Gimme Gimmes— the name of a great punk cover band started by Fat Mike from NOFX.

Punk rock is the perfect music for times ahead. We’ll have to let go of the old ways we’ve all become accustomed to. Things like air quality regulations, public schooling, fresh food on the grocery store shelves… These amenities will go by the wayside as our current systems are abandoned. Trump is beholden to Putin and now, so are we. It’s ironic that the Grand Ole Party is the leadership to hand our government over to what they themselves referred to as “the enemy.” I’m old enough to remember Reagan-era-Republicans like my grandfather, and boy, would he be shocked to see the cabinet choices Trump is making. It’s like watching a game show in Hell: Say Johnny, who’ve we got for Secretary of Labor…? Why, it’s Kid Rock! C’mon down.

Picking people loyal to his every whim, seemingly without a care for qualification or experience, Trump obviously wants to be the ringleader of this freakshow. But how will it work? Fascism doesn’t mix well with the fact that we worship at the altar of the almighty greenback. Capitalism, i.e., money and the pursuit of it, is priority #1 in this country and so I’m confused as to how he’ll control all the media, social and otherwise, but still be willing to sell airtime to any idea that gains financial traction.
I’m sure there’s a plan though, right? Trump will probably mandate crypto currency, then it’ll crash and devalue like the rest of the stuff he puts his name on. I bet that’s been Putin’s plan the whole time; he’s itching to watch the American dollar fail as the world standard.

Whatever. I’m focusing on self-care: remembering to get plenty of rest, drink water, eat something green once in a while, sit in the sun with my friends and laugh. Revolution is in the air on this SeaDragon we call American life, and we are headed back down towards the middle. What a ride!

https://www.thecut.com/2024/01/pluto-moving-into-aquarius-2024-meaning.html

I’ve been listening to a lot of John Cougar Mellencamp lately. In jr. high school he was one of my all-time favorites and so the memories are flooding back… Seems like just yesterday, but it was over four decades ago when I was sitting on a school bus listening to Jack and Diane on my walkman. And all this reminiscing about my youth has given me the inspiration to write a letter to my future self.

Dear Jeannie,
Try to slow down and appreciate the little things along this amazingly crazy journey we call life. Go for more gratitude, less anxiety. I can only assume you are still running around, terribly busy, and for what? Just so you can buy more Little House on the Prairie dresses? Please tell me that by now, the fad of pioneer-woman-tiny-floral pattern covering neck to wrist to ankle and billowing with heavy, bunchy fabric like Aunt Dot’s drapes has passed. Ugh, I am not a fan of this old-fashioned garb. If fashions must cycle back, let’s see some faded Guess jeans with zippers at the ankles and high-top Reebok sneakers!
That’s what I was wearing while listening to Little Pink Houses, when life seemed endless. I can vividly remember sitting at my desk in school, looking up at the large industrial clock on the wall which actually appeared to tick back one second before continuing on its usual, mind-numbingly slow passage. As they say, “the days may drag on, but the years fly by.”
Jeannie, now that you are in the second semester of your life, it’s time to steer clear of anything/one who tries to suck up your time with negativity and doubt. I’m not saying don’t help out, but time becomes more valuable when there is less of it, and as John says, “…there’s less days in front of the horse than riding in the back of this cart.”
I have the feeling that death will come suddenly (at the very end.) It’ll be like when you’re on the phone with someone and you’re both saying your goodbyes and then you think of one last thing you want to say— but they’ve already hung up. That’s what I think death is like, but who knows? The beauty of the whole thing is that no one here knows, and we have that in common with everyone who has ever lived.
As far as I can tell, humans have always concentrated more on our differences than our similarities. Maybe because we all have the innate desire to be noticed and appreciated; to stand out in a crowd. That’s natural, but when it turns into an Us and Them situation, pretty soon it leads to war and strife. I wonder, does it amplify with age? Or is it all our exposure to shareholders who capitalize on conflict? Fear, lust, greed; the lower chakras are big money makers.
I recently saw a talk show with David Hogg, and I was impressed with how calm, cool, and collected he was for his age. (Jeannie, in case you’ve forgotten watching the interview, David was a student in the Parkland shooting who works as a gun control activist. Just for the record, I’m doing my best to stave off the dementia.) David’s on a mission to kill the big money that we, as a society, are unable— unwilling? to stop from killing our kids. He’s inspiring to watch, as the younger generations keep fighting to bring about the change they want to see in this world.
Whatever happens, don’t give up.

Sincerely,
Younger version of yourself

p.s. It looks like the powers that be are giving the go-ahead to a full access four-way intersection at Dolores and Hwy 133, so slow down and be careful. There is a two-story restaurant going up across the highway and when everyone is turning left to go home to RVR after dinner (in the dark winter months) it will be chaos and collisions with all the traffic turning onto Dolores. Relax, put on some John Cougar Mellencamp, and take your time getting home so that you don’t end up a needless casualty thanks to the indifference of the Town of Carbondale and CDOT.

Have you heard of project 2025? (No, that’s not the name of Aspen’s new airport plan.) Remember Trump’s first term? Specifically, when he showed up at the White House with his troupe of misfit carnies, asking where the coffee maker was… Government desks and departments left empty for months— even years, as the narcissist took more interest in his Twitter POTUS sign-on than anything actually presidential.

Well, this time his minions are busy recruiting newly minted bureaucrats who want to run away and join the circus. The government workers who would normally remain in their position throughout different administrations to ensure expertise and consistency, will all be replaced with blindly loyal, ham-fisted clowns. Project 2025 is an open call for positions with organizations like NOAA or NASA: No experience necessary! Because Trump wants to control time and space by using a sharpie on the constitution.

I use a sharpie for my job. As a greeter at the Aspen airport, I stand alongside the fancy hotel employees with their ipads displaying the name of the passenger for pickup, while holding a clipboard with the name (usually an alias) written in sharpie on old-school white copy paper. Hey, it works, and part of the charm of flying into Aspen is that it looks like it has my whole life.

One of the best things about the town where I was born was the way it remained true to itself through all the boom-and-bust storms that blew through. From silver prospectors to ranchers, bikers to cokehead skiers, Aspen welcomed everyone who found their way to this little picturesque town in the Rocky Mountains. And in the beginning of the end, it was still a great place to go to get away from the celebrity looky-loos. Stars could pull up a bar stool and have an anonymously good time like the rest of us. Aspen was a great equalizer, just like the TSA today.

Boy, those gals do not care where you’re from or how much you brought to the party, they will pat you down like a repeat offender in county jail. Over the years, I’ve greeted rock stars to generals, Hollywood royalty to middle eastern heirs, and they all seem perfectly content with our smalltown airport vibe. Of course, my greets fly commercial. I can’t speak for the other half (83%??) flying private down the road at ABO.

These days private jets flock to Sardy Field like pigeons on a croissant. I get it; the rich can’t help but wealth-appropriate the customs and rituals of Roaring Fork locals. After all, they come and look around at the rest of us having a good time, it makes sense they want some of that… Unfortunately, they end up running the fun right out of town by upping the cost of everything, and that’s how a town loses its luster.

But don’t feel bad for the billionaires. They have it pretty good in this country where the rich get richer, while the poor get taxed. Using taxpayer money for a new runway, sure, but adjusting to accommodate larger private jets leaves a taste in the mouth of petit fours. And the bigger issue with increasing private plane traffic is the lack of workforce. Who is going to land and service all these VIPs? Maybe Pitkin County can adopt a Willy Wonka system where they insert golden tickets into protein bars and if you’re the lucky finder, then you get to report to work at 5:00am in the dark winter mornings.

“Wake up and smell the coffee, Mrs. Bueller. It’s a fool’s paradise. He is just leading you down the primrose path.” -Edward R Rooney.

Speaking of fools, I would really like for the media to stop normalizing a felon running for office. Trump has done nothing but lie, cheat, and steal to get his paradise, built on the backs of all the working-class Joes he swindled. He has no qualifications, and no civil motivations on his wannabe-a-billionaire ticket. He will be the first president to be convicted of felony charges, the first one to be openly cancelling votes, and I’m sure, the first to land Air Force One on our tax-funded tarmac.

Reject Project 2025.

Boomers say Millennials have no respect for America’s institutions, e.g., Congress, POTUS, the Supreme Court. I say, who can blame them? America’s most hallowed halls have all been corrupted by corporate interests. It’s high time to cut the puppet strings between our government and the lobbyists who pull them.

Like most GenXers, I suspect, I’m just happy that it’s an election year and we may finally be at the end of our epic Boomer-streak. While I appreciate legalized marijuana and a push towards renewable energy, the last five presidents have all been Boomers. That’s enough. Although, I would argue that Obama was actually part of the invisible generation that exists between Boomers and GenX, but always gets lumped in with the Boomers.

I need someone to explain to me how a baby can be born in 1961 and still be considered part of the boom of babies (hence the name) that happened when all the G.I.s came home from World War II. It’s preposterous. There is a huge generation hidden in there. How many babies were born between 1950 and 1965? We could call them Moon Shadow Generation (Mooners for short) or just SDR (stands for sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll— and you call yourselves hippies!) However we refer to them, I want it to go on the record that they are even more overlooked than GenX, and it’s never a good idea to underestimate kids who were left alone to fend for themselves all summer. (“Be home by dark.”)

My birthday is near the end of August, and I never spent a birthday in school, but nowadays the kids are back in full swing by the time I’m blowing out the candles. The school year seems to get longer every year, yet they still study for twelve years. So, obviously they are learning more than we ever did… maybe one reason they have no time or patience for our antiquated systems.

I, for one, am ready for some brand-new tactics when it comes to US policy. Voting for Harris/Walz is a step in the right direction but honestly, I could do-si-do even farther to the left. My husband likes to say I’m so far left that I come around and smack ya from the right. He also gets the credit for more accurately naming what elders call Our Border Crisis to Our Christian Crisis. If these politicians were smart, instead of closing the border they would realize the potential of all those Catholics and send some believers down there to register voters.

Not only are they not smart, but the hypocrisy of those talking heads who claim to be descended from ‘pioneers’ not ‘immigrants’ is shameful. I aspire to be the Ann Coulter of The Left but honestly, I am not sure I can get to that level of crazy with a capital C in my lifetime. How does one with such anti-christ-like views even call herself a Christian? Reminds me of a comedian I saw with a hilarious bit about Jesus being a liberal and God being the Republican.

Jesus was a liberal; had long flowing hair, he wore a dress and (was) basically a drag queen reading to children, okay?

                        …

Republicans do not like Jesus, Republicans like God.

God is a Republican… (big booming voice) “You! Kill your kid!”

“What?!… I don’t want to kill my kid.”

“You won’t kill your kid?… I’ll kill my kid. Where’s my fucking kid…”

Jesus is at Berkeley with a ukelele… -Robin Tran

In the horse race of outdated institutional obstacles to peaceful humanity, I think religion is leading the pack. But lately the American Supreme Court is sure giving it a run for its money. In the last few years, they have changed the course of this country— and not for the betterment of younger generations. These dinosaurs are trying to take us straight into a dystopian future where it will be illegal to get an abortion, stop major polluters, or be homeless. Like life isn’t hard enough when we’ve lost our job and our home to foreclosure, now they’ll legally be able to put us in jail for sleeping on public lands.

I wonder which bible verse addresses that.

“Elon Musk is really doing an incredible job educating the public about how capitalists end up aligning with fascists to maintain their wealth and limit the power of the working classes.” @maxberger

Truth. Here’s the thing: if all the rhetoric was true then these billionaires wouldn’t need to sell their soul to today’s Republican party. They could pay their fair share of taxes, knowing that they can go back out in the free market, pull up their bootstraps, and make it happen again. Or just sit back and wait for trickle down economics to make its way down to them… Right. The American economy trickles these days in much the same way the Colorado River still reaches Mexico. The insatiable greed along the way prevents most of us from ever seeing a drop.

Speaking of Mexico, if Trump gets back into the White House, and Project 2025 comes to fruition, I might just move there. Not to be all doom and gloom, but Agenda 47 (The same thing as Project 2025— Trump changed the name to imply he will be the 47^th—and last! president this country sees.) outlines a bleak future for everyone who isn’t a sycophant. And if it really comes down to fight or flight, in my younger days I would not have hesitated to join the fray, but now “I said, but I’m tired.” -George Thoroughgood

I’m tired of watching corporations like Amazon climb their money piles while using our tax money (a.k.a. the US postal service) to do it. I’m tired of the media being so scripted I have to get my news from Jon Stewart on the Comedy Channel. And I’m really tired of watching the Republican party pretend that Trump isn’t a ridiculous tool for a fascist fairy tale. At this point, the Democrats could put up practically anyone and I’d vote for them. My preference would be Harris/Buttigieg, but I’m not sure the old blue-blazer guard is ready to smash through the privileged patriarchy domed ceiling like younger voters are.

That’s okay. Surely, we can find someone who’s willing and sane and able. How about The Rock or Samuel L. Jackson? I will vote Team Blue no matter what because in my formative years Reagan had Alzheimer’s while in office, and we all realized that the position is more of a figurehead, really. It’s the people surrounding the president you gotta watch.

Most Americans who haven’t fallen so far down the Trumphole that they can’t see the light of day, just want a sane and moderate leader to represent us in the world; someone who will try to keep the peace and trade agreements alive. But a scary percentage of this country is living in a dream-state similar to Alice in Wonderland, except instead of enjoying a psychedelic tea party with a caterpillar, they are drinking the Nationalist Kool-Aid put out by Paul Weyrich, a man on a mission to shred the Constitution. https://www.badfaithdocumentary.com

Meanwhile, our billionaire-in-a-white-hat, Bill Gates is spending his money to re-invent butter without animal or plant matter. Yep, while orphans scour trash heaps in Kenya for their daily bread, Bill’s more focused on buttering his own toast. Savor is a company working to bring us The Jetsons-like food technology, and using Gates money, they have “developed a process that involves taking carbon dioxide from the air and hydrogen from water, heating them up, and oxidizing them to trigger the separation of fatty acids and then the formulation of fat.” https://newatlas.com/technology/savor-butter-bill-gates/

Welcome To Fruita. Sometimes I feel like I’m the one sitting at a tea party in the woods with a bunch of lunatics throwing teacups and cake, talking at no one and laughing at nothing. So, this is how it happens, I think to myself. This is how an empire eats itself. This is how a society sits at their fancy place setting, sipping their chamomile, and watches the village burn to the ground.

Here are three things we can all do to fight fascism in the United States of America:

File an IRS 13909 violation form for the Heritage Foundation, EIN # 23-7327730 re: Project 2025.

Check on our fellow party goers (neighbors) to see how they’re faring.

Vote.

It seems like once we turn fifty, we realize that we’re on the back side of the hill and if there’s anything we want to get really good at, we’d better start practicing— like now. Most people choose a pastime that will weather the years: like golf, fishing, or yoga. Something they will still be able to do when they’re as old as a presidential candidate.

My husband chose golf, which is fine by me because what do I care if he wants to spend his days outside chasing a metaphor for life. And without really trying, I am learning the lingo; birdie this, bogey that. In many ways, golf seems like a good way to get to the heart of someone rather quickly. For instance, you play with others, but the score is only for you, and watching how a golfer handles the ups and downs, i.e., the sand traps or water hazards, often reveals how s/he handles obstacles in real life.

I keep saying I’ll take a lesson one of these summers, but I’m not sure it’s my bag. I don’t fish, and I haven’t been to a yoga class in years— not since my friend Hillary and I attended a Bikram class in Basalt. Man, it was hot in there, and the other yogers kept having to get out of position and move their mats farther away to avoid the smell of vodka and cigarettes we were sweating out from the night before.

Anyway, in my middle-aged years I’ve taken up meditation and if I do say so myself, I’m getting quite good at it. Of course, that probably means I’m not doing it right, considering that actual mindful practice leads right down the path to selflessness… I have had an epiphany though.

As soon as we’re born, we are headed for our own death and each day alive brings us one more closer to the finish line. Mostly we go through our days avoiding thinking or talking about it, sometimes actively pushing it out of our minds when it does pop up, but what if our approach to life is backwards? What if we were to flip the narrative and look back at all we have accomplished along the way as we careen around the corners towards the tape. We could view death (at the end of a long life) as the goal and spend each day rejoicing at getting that much closer to our journey’s end.

I believe in a creative energy that thrives in all living things on this planet and I also believe the whole experience is about exploring our differences. Perspective changes with age (if it doesn’t, you may want to have that looked at) and middle age is all about letting things go and moving on, which comes with a couple of perks: patience and tolerance. The older we get, the more we can see both/all sides of an issue— unless we forget to take our sleep mask off, which these days is no joke when it comes to getting a good night’s sleep.

Perimenopause is like the fourth fairy godmother no one ever told us about— we’ll call her Pudge for short. Mysterious aches and pains, low energy and an even lower give-a-shit-factor, hot flashes, mood swings, the list goes on and on… I picture this tired fairy with frizzy hair and mustard stains, lounging in her cabin in the woods, just taking a minute to enjoy the peace and quiet. She reminds me that life is not just a track-and-field day with endless events for scoring and judging. Joy and leisure make a life worth living.

I’m not saying that we should take a nap this election year, just that every day doesn’t have to be a battle. If we don’t want to perpetuate bigotry and prejudice in the world, then it’s on us to listen to differing opinions. Humans have always had conflict, and always will, but if we stay open-minded to other points of view, we may realize we’re all just running an epic relay race— hopefully with enough time for a favorite pastime.

See, I told you I was getting the hang of this meditation thing.

Are you on Threads? It’s like Twitter, except no one appears to be monitoring the content, which is absolutely random and fabulous! Threads has everything a GenXer could want: political memes, cat videos, sarcastic social commentary, followed by grandma’s secret family recipe for handmade ravioli. Here’s an example of a quintessential Threads post:

“What if mars has water on it because we used to live there and we messed up the climate so badly that we had to send an escape pod to earth with only Adam and Eve in it and the pod was the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs?” -blackspielberg_

This. This is the kind of imaginative musing that makes me like us humans. And as tired as I am of our patriarchal perspective on history, I love it when I come across something truly unconventional. Something or someone that is so far out of the box, it gives me hope for the future of the whole human race. I’m lucky enough not to have kids but if I did, you can be sure-as-shit they’d be learning how to build a cabin and grow, harvest, and distill potatoes for Mommy’s vodka martini. Even as untethered as I am, it’s still hard to watch what we’re doing to this planet— not to mention each other’s children.

Speaking of children, why can’t we just love them for the nonsensical little monsters they are? Who cares if they want to play with a truck, or wear a dress, or play with a truck while wearing a dress… this gender hang-up thing is really getting on my nerves. It reminds me of middle school when I would get passed a note in class (don’t get caught!) and I would have to unfold it about eight times (quietly!) only to be given a choice between two boxes: Yes or No. What a boring existence if we were to go through life with only two choices. In my experience, most of life is a spectrum and sampling the whole smorgasbord is the entire point— always with consent! (I really shouldn’t even have to say that by now, but you know.)

There’s something here on Earth for everyone, and we only run into trouble when we stifle our natural tendencies or desires because of some outdated, preconceived notion that was most likely invented by a repressed and unhappy pilgrim in the first place. Shame is a terrible nanny. If they aren’t hurting anyone, what exactly is the problem with experimental youth? Why are some adults so concerned that they fit in with the norm? A norm, I might add, that led us here.

The natural balance of healthy life on Earth is seriously skewed and I can’t really see anything about our current situation that inspires confidence in our sustainability. In fact, it feels as though we are hurtling through the cosmos like a sequel to the Roaring Twenties, unaware that a crash is even coming. You gotta admit, if you just landed on Earth right now, it would seem chaotic and confusing, to say the least. (Side note: I’ve thought about writing a planet manual with chapter headings like “Don’t eat chicken that comes in a bucket” and “Watch out for anyone claiming to be a ‘man of the people.”

Hopefully the younger generations are less susceptible to the charms of snake oil salesmen. At least they seem to be less concerned with checking a gender box, and more interested in learning how to grow food in the nutrient-depleted soil they’ve inherited. After the economy tanks and we start to rebuild the country’s infrastructure, I’m sure their laid-back adaptability will come in handy. And GenX is more than ready to put the old in old-age again. Enough of this 70-years-young shit, we’ll take it back to the days of sitting on the porch in a rocker for most of the afternoon and into the evening… Take it from us, being self-sufficient and disillusioned with authority from a young age comes in handy as we can make do with what we’ve got and appreciate the simple things in life. Things like a good Sci-Fi story about life on Earth after the asteroid hits.