Old Age

I've decided that old people are happier when they don't have to solve a particular problem.

Today as I was returning from my bike ride (17.5 miles of fury!) I saw a county fire truck go roaring by before turning down a side street. When I was younger, I would have followed it to see if they needed any help. County fire departments are small, and if Bob is out fishing, you're short a firefighter. If anything, I could keep people away from the fire.

But now I'm older, and thus more tired. So I kept driving on.

I imagine Encyclopedia Brown is probably an alchoholic by now. I mean, yeah, it was cool at first figuring out how the bad guys skipped school, and where your best friend's dog went, but that shit had to get old fast. People you don't even know start showing up and want you to solve their problems. Not so fun now, huh, book boy?

I picture him sitting alone in a hotel near Phoenix throwing beer bottles at the wall. Whenever the maid tries to open the door, he's all like, "I got it! You're a fuckin' loser who works at this crap hole in the middle of the desert! You pop pain pills every night so you won't have to deal with reality! Your husband's sleeping with another woman! I solved the fuckin' case. I'm Encyclo-Fuckin-Pedia Brown, bitches. By the way, the only clue I needed was your outfit and the fact that your face looks like basketball leather."

The maid, faced with such cognitive powers of blinding truth, instantly kills herself by jumping over the balcony. Encyclopedia (Mr. Brown if you're nasty) then shoots some morphine and passes out.

I'm going to do a circuit of nursing homes, where all the old people sit around and watch me do menial tasks, like tying my shoes and riding a unicycle. I think that would make them happy as they sucked Jell-O through a straw.

Hell, if I could watch that and eat Jell-O, I'd be happy.