Curmudgeonville Straight Ahead

There is a place most of us have driven past from time to time and some of us have taken up residence there. It is a cute, tree-lined town where everything is seemingly in order but if you spend any time there at all, you will get a feeling that there is a disturbing rumbling underground, like the entire community was built on top of a simmering volcano. There are lots of smiles on the faces of the people there but they sometimes seem more painted on than real.

If you wonder whether or not you are heading to a life in Curmudgeonville, here are a few signposts that might tell you it is probably just over the next hill or two.

1. You start a lot of sentences, “When I was young …”.

2. Today’s music is crap. You know this even though you have never listened to today’s music.

3. Everything was so much better in the good old days.

4. You start a lot of sentences, “Young people today …”.

5. You worry about immigrants. You don’t know any immigrants, but they worry you. A lot.

6. Today’s TV shows are crap. You know this even though you never watch today’s TV shows. Ditto movies.

7. Nobody respects anybody anymore, especially their elders.

8. Teachers. (Fill in complaints here.)

9. Too much sex, sex, sex everywhere (except in your own bedroom.)

10. Human beings are toast and our planet is doomed.

11. You worry a lot about people swearing too much and ignoring God.

12. Too many people are living on free money, unlike you who works hard for every last red cent.

13. Cops, firefighters, postal workers (fill in complaints here).

14. Nobody knows their “place” anymore and we’d all be much happier if we did. Your place, for example, is a nice little house in the heart of Curmudgeonville, where there are double locks on all your doors, you pay $1.50 a year in taxes and riff raff are never seen or heard from.

15. Drugs. OMG. Drugs.

P.S. You don’t have to be old to live in Curmudgeonville.

P.P.S. I have hung around there a few times myself.

©2014 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.