Old Fogy Baby Boomer — And Proud Of ItI’m an old fogy Baby Boomer, and proud of it. By the time she’d reached my age, Marilyn Monroe had been dead for 32 years.
I watched “Howdy Doody,” saw The Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and viewed the first moon landing on live television. I’ve never watched an episode of “Keeping Up With The Kardashians,” and if I can help it, I never will.
I’ve never watched an episode of “True Blood.” Instead, I give blood twice a year when I visit the doctor’s office to have my cholesterol levels monitored and get my prescriptions refilled.
Yes, I’m on Facebook, but I don’t automatically “friend” anyone who asks, and I never “like” any commercially-sponsored posts. I only tweet when I truly have something to say. I use my mobile phone to actually speak to people, not impersonally send frivolous text messages. I imagine that 50 years from now today’s teenagers will be texting: OMG, GGP I’m an OM. (“Oh, my God. Got to go pee. I’m an old man.”)
I don’t give a damn about advertisers who ignore the TV programs I like because I’m no longer in their “desired” 21 to 54 age group. I don’t want the newest and latest; I want products that do what they’re supposed to do.
I deplore news media that criticize the way celebrities dress in public, and you should, too. I’m a former journalist, and I can envision the shabby attire of most of those critics. What’s worse: celebrity-fluff “journalism” is taking up space, time and bandwidth that could be devoted to matters that are actually of public importance.
Yep, I’m an old fogy Baby Boomer, and proud of it. Please excuse me now as I return to The Peanut Gallery.