Category get off my lawn
Crazy California Laws
You often hear the line, “We are a nation of laws,” and it’s usually associated with someone breaking one of those laws. But what is a law, really? I mean, sure, we know they are the boundary lines for living in a civilized society. Rules like, hey, don’t murder people, or don’t take shit that […]
All The Justice You Can Buy
I had a bit of a “Get Off My Lawn” moment this week. When we last circled around the campfire, we talked about the tale of convicted drug trafficker, Alice Johnson and a push for clemency on her behalf by the Queen of the Selfie, Kim Kardashian. There’s the link, if you want to check […]
Social Media For Old Guys – #3
The universe of social media is a vast, strange veneer of tweets, likes, pins and hearts over a current of swift weirdness. Likes I like you and you may or may not like me. Simple as that. It doesn’t have to get strange. If you’ve spent more than five minutes scrolling through your feed, you’ve probably […]
You Know You’re Old When…
The Universe is a mean little kid Every now and again, the Universe sticks its bony leg out to trip you. The trip and fall might be psychic, but the sting is real enough. And the devious little bastard thinks it’s just the funniest thing ever. The twit plays dirty and hides until you’re feeling […]
Get Out Of My E-Mail!
The rise of the machines is happening. It began with a very not-so-subtle e-mail from my medical insurance provider. This was not the usual e-mail fluff that clogs up your spam filter recommending this supplement, or an indictment that I could stand to lose a few pounds. The timing of these e-mails are suspicious. They seem to hit the […]
How Did We Survive? The Grumpy Guy’s Guide
The other day I asked a youngish kid, maybe 10 years old, to kindly not play behind my car, in my driveway, because it wasn’t very safe. Her response to me was, “I don’t have to. I can play wherever I want.” Which led me to: Only the strong survive… How did we manage to […]
Get Off My Damn Lawn
Pardon while I squeeze into my ranty pants… I don’t know when it happened. I didn’t feel the day I changed, but I have become that guy – the crotchety geezer who wants to yell at the local young folk, to get off my damn lawn. To be honest, it isn’t always directed at the “kids,” […]
James L'Etoile
James L'Etoile 