Old people suck. They should be returned to the earth so we can grow tastier carrots and potatoes. Old people are fucking up my neighborhood, and imposing their outdated, cranky views on young couples and their kids.

It started at an HOA meeting – dreadful punch and cookies, not a drop of alcohol in sight – when the Fucking Old People (FOPs) announced that they no longer wanted young people (two of whom are Fozz Spawn) to play in the common area.

Why? Because when kids play in a place they leave behind toys, sports equipment, assorted trash, and other shit. Heaven forbid that a piece of land, that old people never use, has been desecrated. As good parents we try and pick it up, but on some days we’re busy with the shit ton of shit that occupies our lives.

Also, apparently children at play are noisy. And some have been known to utter “swear words” such as “dammit” and “shut up”. I expect better from my children, by now they should have an extensive vocabulary of dirty words. I lead by example, motherfucker.

I keep leaving empty bourbon bottles and syringes on the steps of the FOPs, hoping to them to move. If this doesn’t work, I’m bringing over my black friends for a cookout which should induce heart attacks and strokes.

There’s also an administrative brawl going on over the decks. I sat in an architectural meeting for TWO HOURS listening to frigid, dried out women debate what color is best: “light tan” or “dark tan.” The HOA president and I smoked a bowl after that meeting, and it didn’t relax me.

The oldsters want to ban outdoor fires, i.e. fire pits. Why? Because they’re “noisy” and “create noxious fumes”, which must remind them of the Great Fire of Baltimore that happened a million years ago. (Editor’s Note: After reading this sentence, Blaxabbath tore an ACL in his haste to write a joke about Baltimore. Get well soon, Blax!)

This subject created murderous rage in more than a few of my neighbors. Our answer? We had a fire pit the next night that was attended by 20+ adults, their kids, and a river of alcohol. (We also shot off bottle rockets. I know, we are assholes.)

My kids got a basketball hoop for Christmas, and we put it up for all of the kids in the neighborhood. They had a blast, the adults got into it. I pulled out all the stops one day and treated them to my behind the back, rock the cradle jam, which got the MILFs in the hood all gooey and starry eyed.

Then, they crossed the line.

These fucking old people took time from dusting off their Hummel figurines to complain about the hoop, because it was dangerous. To who? Them? You know what’s dangerous to them? When the cable company changes its channels and those dried up mummies can’t fucking figure out when Jeopardy airs. In the end, the hoop was removed due to “insurance liabilities”.

You can go after me and the adults, but when you deliberately target kids, fuck you. I posted a link to an over 50 community on the neighborhood’s Facebook page and suggested they all move there so we could enjoy our lives. I also would beep whenever I drove past their houses. I am a petty person.

While all of this burns me up to no end, my upbringing triggered Malcolm McDowell like reaction in “A Clockwork Orange.” You respect your elders. You honor them. You listen to them. You help them when they need it. In the end, I overcame that training and blew up their Rascals with a copious amount of C4.

All of this bitter fighting has accomplished nothing but to divide the neighborhood in to young and old factions. More important subjects have been ignored, all because a group of shrunken assholes who sit in their houses and watch Charlie Chaplin films want things their way. Fuck every one of them. I hope none of them can get their Maalox bottles open.

On A Lighter Note
(Each post will end with an event that made me happy.)

Douchebag parent – lawyer with severe little man’s complex – got thrown off the field at my son’s tournament yesterday.