Fight it all you want, but in your futile quest for eternal youth, you'll still end up like this:
If I had ever slouched around my house, my old mom would have beaten me senselessness with a lemon reamer and then locked me the root cellar to think about the error of my ways.
But these young people today, they’re all hunched over like teenaged Quasimodos with ill-fitting trousers and size 14 high tops. It’s disrespectful, disgraceful and un-American.
They drag themselves down the street with their concave backs, warped morals and damned superior attitudes. It’s like someone has removed their spines and replaced them with red liquorice and arrogance.
Now that's the way to Curmudgeon Heaven! Book-worthy stuff. I can't remember who pointed me to The Crabby Old Fart, but thanks!