Silver Surfer

Bucolic

Oh, god! Now I am a silver surfer! Those glorious Madison Avenue boys and girls whom spend their days thinking up catchy merchandising phrases to promote all kinds of crappy products have decided that I am (drum roll, please) a Silver Surfer! We of advanced years whom use the internet via computer, smart phone, tablets, e-book readers, televisions, semaphore, or prayers to the gods of electrons have been honored with a wonderful new designation. I am very much humbled by this; I just nod my old, gray head and smile. I don’t know what age one must have achieved to be a Silver Surfer, but I suppose it is we helpless and senile escapees from nursing homes or cheaters of the grim reaper over the age of 50 or maybe 55 whom are the lucky ones. I feel touched that I have received another slap-down from those well meaning youngsters. They’ve already bestowed upon me such benevolent titles as “silver fox”, “golden years”, “golden-ager”, “senior”, and “senior citizen”. I don’t even like the words surf, surfing, or surfer when it comes to using the internet and I am damn sure not pleased with Silver Surfer. I’ll tell them one thing; let ‘em send one of those hot, young, New York City ad-chicks down here to the hills and I will surely take her to the woods and introduce her to a hunk of silver merchandise which she will remember even into her Silver Surfer years. Maybe she can think up a better moniker for me when I bend her over a stump for a guided tour of geezer heaven; she can soar back to NYC with a sore ass and a smile on her face. To quote Russel Casse from the movie Independence Day, “In the words of my generation: Up Yours!”
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Have a Tuesday.
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