March 22, 2017 Article

Old Coot speech is restricted.

By Merlin Lessler

A new section has been added to the old coot manual. It’s titled, “The Conversation Topic Schedule.” Instead of allowing old coots to repeat their same gripes, complaints and assertions every day, day after day, the topics we can discuss are restricted and assigned to specific days of the week, in hopes a chat with an old coot will be less aggravating and thus improve the image of my generational compatriots.

Monday is designated – “Good-old-days Monday.” We’re allowed to talk about how great the world was when we were growing up, when we were newlyweds, when we had jobs, and compare it to the dumb way things are today. How cheap a candy bar, a pizza, dinner out with the “Misses” was in the good old days. How much better things were made! How you could fix things, not throw them away when they broke. How kids played outside without parental interference and respected their elders etc., etc., etc.

Tuesday (and Thursday, since the topic is so vast) are medical ailment days. On Tuesday, the conversations are limited to the torso (heart, lungs, kidney, liver, gall bladder, stomach and the like). In addition to the ailment and symptoms, it’s acceptable to discuss the treatment, medicine prescribed, side effects, recovery time, doctor rating and hospital performance.

Wednesday is reserved for physical feats, and the bragging thereof. It would be discouraging to have ailments discussed two days in a row. Better to have some positive remnants of past physicality talked about to perk things up a little. “Techy” coots can brag at how many steps they recorded on their Fitbits. Bike riders can crow about the miles they peddled and how many hills they ascended. Even achievements, like making it through the night without having to stumble down the hall to the bathroom, are acceptable physical feats to brag about. Mental success may be covered as well, such as getting your pants on frontwards three days in a row, and successfully putting on two socks, without falling over when standing on one leg to slip them on. Walking in flip-flops without tripping, or walking out of them. That sort of thing.

Thursday finishes up the medical topics for the week. Limb issues, to be specific. Shoulder, elbow, hip, wrist, knee and ankle problems and replacements thereof. Foot problems, numbness and discolorations. All good to go. Cramps, circulation issues and blood clots are acceptable, as long as they take place in the limbs.

Friday is designated as old coot coping skills day. Tricks of the trade so to speak. Best place to go for the blue bird special. How to fool the public when the front of your shirt announces what you had for lunch (slip it off and put it on backwards or inside out). Where to get free stuff. Who gives senior discounts. That sort of thing.

Weather is an acceptable topic every day of the week, even for old coots, but not if they compare it to weather of their youth. That’s a “good old day’s” topic, properly handled on a Monday.

Saturday and Sunday are mute days, to give the public a break. Old coots are to be seen, but not heard, something they were taught when they were children. They claim to have done that at the time, now let them prove it, and SHUT UP!

C0mments? Send to -mlessler7@gmail.com

March 15, 2017 Article

The Old Coot learns a new language, the hard way.

By Merlin Lessler

This took me a while (more mulling it over, than actual time with pen and paper) to find a politically correct way to write about Political Correctness. Just who decides what is politically correct and what isn’t? Who makes the rules? Not, I venture to say, the “offended” party. More likely, some pretentious, look down their nose at the great masses type of person who, when they were in elementary school, were either the teacher’s pet (do they have them anymore?) or the class tattletale.

I must admit, I was plagued by both types when I was in grade school (as it was called in my day). The few times I raised my hand with the correct answer in my head, instead of faking it and hoping not to be called on, the teacher’s pet got the nod. I only was called on when I was goofing off and didn’t even hear the question. The tattletales back then were often the teacher’s PET as well, and never missed it when one of us passed a note, threw a spitball or slipped a piece of Juicy Fruit gum out of our pocket. They immediately reportedus to the teacher and we ended up “doing time” in the hall, the cloakroom or when it was a serious offense, enduring a “chat” with the school principal.

I’m positive the politically correct movement grew because of the two types of “do gooders” I grew up with: the tattletalers and the teacher’s pets. When I make the slightest mistake, and say Indian instead of Native American, a grown-up tattle tale is right there to point out my offense. I’m not talking about truly racists, sexist or crude designations. I’m talking about a minor misstep, the kind that most of us make every so often. Mostly because we don’t have a subscription to the Politically Correct Newsletter.

This approved way of speaking (and thinking)extends far beyond the use of insulting or cruel words and phrases. It has expanded to such a degree that it reminds me of George Orwell’s “Newspeak” in his famous book, “1984,” where it (Newspeak) was used to limit a citizen’s freedom of thought—personal identity, self-expression and free will. Our current form of Newspeak goes even further. You can’t mention you had a burger and fries at MacDonald’s without getting a “Tsk, Tsk,” from the Newspeak crowd – “Bad, bad food! Eat salad!” Child’s play is another target. NO DODGEBALL. – Tie scores at all pee-wee soccer, baseball and lacrosse games. Fairy tales are out – Too scary! The mean stepmother in Cinderella, the troll under the bridge and the witch in Hansel and Gretel are taboo – even though fairy tales started the processto help kids understand that there are bad people and bad outcomes in the real world.

Buy a dog? Even that gets critiqued, “Is it a rescue dog? Did you buy it at a pet store? Did the breeder do a background check on you before letting you “adopt” the dog?” (The correct answers are: Yes, No, Yes.)

The worst thing about Newspeak is the “Gotcha!” factor. You make an innocent, and rather mild, slip of the tongue and the “Masters” of correct language pounce! That is their modusoperandi, Brow beat and publicly shame you into conforming. But still, I wonder, who is it that makes the rules?

Comments? Complaints?  Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

March 8, 2017 Article

The Old Coot is in style, sort of.

By Merlin Lessler

One thing (some) old coots (like me) have in common with young bucks, is we often don’t tuck in our shirts. Why? A lot of reasons: It’s too hard to reach around and tuck in the back - It helps disguise the size of our beer bellies. - We simply forget. - It hides that we belt our pants at the bottom of our rib cage. - It’s easier to hide the ketchup, mustard and sugar packets we take home from restaurants. But, despite all these benefits, some old coots go the other way; they tuck in everything, their undershirts into their boxer shorts, sweaters and sweatshirts into their pants, pants into their socks, but this article isn’t about them. I’ll leave them out and let them go about their tucking business as well as their habit of triple securing their pants with belts, suspenders and elastic waist bands.

Unfortunately, the fashion industry noticed us “chic” old coots, but more so, the young bucks, who go around with their shirts untucked. They are coming after us, in an attempt to clean up our image, and of course, cash in on it. A new line of shirts, designed to be worn untucked, has been introduced to the market place. “Untuckit” is one of the companies wading into the untucked, untapped market. They say they started the business because, “People have trouble finding shirts that look good untucked, that it’s a deceptively difficult look to get right.” (Yea right; it’s difficult; don’t tuck in your shirt and walk out the door!)

So what did they do? They squared off the bottom of their shirts and launched a sales campaign to sell what they call, a casual shirt, fit for comfort, not convention, and designed to fall at the perfect length. They extol potential untuckers to, “Go ahead and untuck it!” (Untuckit stores have opened in Austin, Chicago, Los Angeles, New York City and San Francisco. Their shirts are also available on line.)

You get a $20 shirt, minus some fabric at the bottom for, $78, $88 or $98, enabling you to project a neat, untucked image. (Not that of a lazy slob, like me) You’ve got to love free enterprise. My problem? MY gripe? I didn’t think of it first, and now I have to rethink my fashion statement. One thing for sure, I’m not going to buy a $98 Untuckit shirt, nor am I going to cut the tails off my shirts to achieve a politically correct, untuck look. What is happening to my world? First, the Duluth Trading Company comes out with a long-tailed T-shirt aimed at the plumber butt-crack problem and now Untuckit is going the other way with a short tail shirt. The fashion dilemma imposed on old coots by modern society never ends.

Comments? Complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

March 1, 2017 Article

The Old Coot knows the cause of the obesity epidemic.

By Merlin Lessler

I hate TV commercials. Most people do. We feel abused by the networks. Just when a show gets close to the climax, the ads come fast and furious. THEY know they have us by the short hairs; we won’t leave, so they take advantage and bombard us with promises of perpetual youth, good health, clean clothes and two burgers for two bucks.

But, that’s not the half of it. If you grew up with TV, like us old coots did, you’d know that TV shows: I love Lucy, The Honeymooners and the like, filled a 30-minute time slot with 27 minutes of show and only 3 minutes of commercials. Today’s sit-coms provide 20 to 22 minutes of drama and 8 to 10 minutes of half-truths and outright lies that pass for commercial messages.

Yet, (and here is where I go off the tracks as usual) life without commercials would be bleak. People who watch TV via streaming and TiVo-ing (is that an official word yet?)  know what I’m getting at. Without commercial breaks, you can’t get anything done. Can’t pull the clothes out of the washer and shove them in the dryer. Can’t open the back door and let the dog out. Can’t add a single word to the daily crossword puzzle. Can’t work through that stack of bills that need to be paid. We’ve adapted our routines and scheduled much of our lives around commercial breaks.

We’ve also fitted our eating habits to the ebb and flow of commercials. Unfortunately, like Pavlov’s dog, who salivated at the sound of a bell, we do the same at the break in a TV show, and shuffle off to the kitchen to slide a bag of popcorn into the microwave and grab a can of soda out of the fridge. Closing the refrigerator door reminds us of the tub of butter pecan ice cream in the freezer. We make a mental note to get working on that during the next break.

It all started, this TV driven eating cycle, with the introduction of TV trays and TV dinners when my generation was growing up. The function of the kitchen moved to the living room; its name was eventually changed to the family room. As the length of the ads increased, so did the width of our rear ends. Want something to blame the obesity epidemic in the country on, then you might as well start with the proliferation of TV commercials. A phenomenon with which we have a love hate relationship. 

Complaints. Comments. Register them at – mlessler7@gmail.com