Thack You: Being Old

Larry Thack is celebrating “Small Business Saturday” at The Pavilion

November has been a difficult month for me. My Sciatica has flared up and I just sit helplessly while the birds invade my squirrel feeders right in front of me.
Getting old is no fun at all as you are acquainted weekly with new maladies that puzzle and frustrate. Being old on the other hand is a wonderful thing. It seems there’s no new injury or illness I haven’t seen and suffered. With all the suffering comes a lot of resting and I must say I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Sitting peacefully as my body repairs itself gives me time to think. This is the true joy in being old. Trouble is, I’m all thought-out by about 9 a.m., and I tend to just stare-off by then. Thank God for right-wing radio programming! We share all the same interests like crimewatching, mistrustliness, anachronisms, and repetition. There’s a true comfort in nodding for five straight hours as a picture is painted of our nation lit on fire by socialists. It’s almost as good as church used to be. I shall match this joy I feel by taking a walk into town and discussing all this with someone.
Things are pretty shady right now in Georgia and it’s hard to know whom to trust. According to the election results for Governor you’d think that half of the townspeople are untrustworthy socialists. Come to think of it, due to the success of voter suppression it could be way less than half. “Who can I trust?”- I scream as I snake through the traffic jam at Dunkin’ Donuts. Walking down Glynn street, or Highway 85 since the government took over, I’m nearly blown from my feet as cars full of immigrants and food-stampers whiz past. We didn’t used to have traffic like this. To the post office then. I can pretend to check my box. This was a bad idea – everyone seems to be wearing pajamas and talking with their mouths full. It is possible at this point I am hallucinating due to some viral meningitis I just picked up. Society can’t be as bad as the post office’s sampling would indicate.
Oh thank the Lord, a white guy. Surely he has 45 minutes to spare. “Excuse me, sir?”

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