I'm beginning to understand the mechanics of being a grumpy old man...
I've been temperamentally inclined to such an outcome, probably since youth, but I fear I'm on a one-way trip to CurmudgeonVille.
See, it's never just one thing, one horrible injustice that burns in your psyche like a white-hot ember. No, it's a multitude of little pinpricks, tiny sparks that fester just beneath the surface.
If there's one word that defines much of my attitude, it's this:
I fear I'm too jaded to get the quick flash of anger I would have 20 years ago. Now, it's just the slow burn of being BBQ'ed over an endless bed of smoking bullshit.
I yearn to push back against what seems an inevitable tide of crap. Back in college, I'd round up a few like-minded pals, and we'd go perpetrate a truly pointless and tasteless prank aimed at pantsing the object of our scorn.
I've got too much to lose these days. Run-ins with Johnny Law aren't the adventure they used to be. I'm no longer able to take a running dive into the bed of an accelerating pickup to flee the scene of an official's yard newly-decorated with an 8 foot tall chicken wire & papier mâché penis.
Neither am I able to afford minions to do my bidding. *Sigh* It's a sad state of affairs...
Fortunately, I have bourbon & cigars, the anodyne to old man's annoyance. And look! It's just about 5 pm!