Old Farts Die Hard

Who the fuck cares for what you care for? Old farts relishing in silly games should wake up.

You see them everywhere – relics of the past, longtime members who had their days of glory; fuddy-duddies who donned the uniform when the rest of us were still in liquid form.

In civil organizations, NGOs, government bodies, clubs, societies and fraternal organizations, very many such members have forgotten their place. These are also places that attract people with big ego-needs so these dipshits – many with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel – hang onto whatever vestiges of power they can cling to.

They still think they rule the roost, so pathetically, they wallow in their past eminence while hallucinating with delusions of grandeur – they are overbearing, obnoxious, giving unsolicited advice, admonishing new members, telling us that what they did was right whereas what we do is incorrect, they refuse to let go, they think nothing of disrupting the peace and harmony of the gathering and generally enjoy being a royal pain in our collective ass.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, to these old has-beens I have a message: I don’t see you, I treat you as if you are invisible, thanks for carving the path, but your time is long over, so roll over and die or step back and get a new generation rise to the occasion. Allow us to let you save face, and retreat gracefully in dignity before we shoot you like old horses who have outlived their usefulness.

Above all, get a life. There is indeed a life outside civil organizations, NGOs, government bodies, clubs, societies and fraternal organizations.

After all, the world has moved on. It’s time you do too. Go while we still have a modicum of respect for you.

Let not your behavior cause us to spit on your graves.

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