Old People I Could Defeat In A Fight

       Your first impression of this GIF might be that it's not really related to much of anything, which just goes to show that your impressions are full of shit. It is very much related to my feelings toward old people, and shows how I would go to practically any length to kick and old person's ass, if I had a hankering to do that, which I always do. You see, the thing about me is that I grew up in South Florida, where the old people are thicker than mosquitos, and much like those detestable creatures, love nothing more than to suck the life out of your supple young skin. They pinch their precious pennies their whole fucking lives and omit close loved ones from their wills so that they can afford to come down there and live like termites in high-rise condominiums by the beach. Sounds pretty awesome, huh? Wrong, it sucks ass. Pretty much all they fucking do is drive horribly and vote, and if they're not doing one of those two things then they are probably driving horribly to a voting booth somewhere, or they are tipping a waiter seventy-five cents after getting refill after refill and asking for their brisket "very lean." They are the scum of the earth and I fucking hate them.
       And if there be any doubt among you as to my ability to kick wholesale old person ass, I submit the following photograph as undeniable proof.

       I am the fucking badass on the left. My homeboy Marshall is on the right. We bump beats loud in that bitch and do whatever the fuck we want. I can almost guarantee you that Cyndi Lauper or some other street shit was blaring at decibels that would make most people's ears bleed, and before you start to question our sexuality let me go ahead and assure you that we are gayer than shit. We are so gay we suffer from heterophobia.

Example:
I saunter into Marshall's bedroom semi-nude as I so often do and find that he is reading a Sports Illustrated while wrestling a grizzly bear and ripping electrical wires out of the wall with his bare hands.

Me: "Bro, if you're gonna do shit like that you need to call no hetero."

       But just because we bugger each other in the ass does not mean we couldn't take out an entire Piccadilly full of old people if we had do, and believe me, we have to. But let's say Marshall came down with mono from making out with his girlfriend. Well, first of all, he would definitely have to call 'no hetero,' and secondly, I would have to do this shit on my own.

     

       If this is what happens when you get on an escalator, I would hate to see what happens when the freight train known as my fist arrives right on schedule and it's time for you to ride it. All aboard you decrepit son of a bitch.

       I would like to introduce you all to Dorothy Densmore. This stupid old hag called 911 twenty times in thirty minutes to complain about a pizza parlor. Imagine the surprise on the face of this dried-up fishwife when it backfired and the police arrived at her door, and she was cuffed and shoved rather roughly into the back of a squad car and taken for a ride downtown. She's lucky I didn't get to her first. I would have viciously attacked her with the business end of a pizza cutter, then held her down and shaken red pepper flakes into her eye.

       It's always amusing when old people try to embrace our technology, that is until they get frustrated and start throwing a temper tantrum, using antiquated curse words and blaming various ethnic groups for all of their problems. Then it becomes appropriate to devastate their face with a flurry of punishing punches.

Come at me, bro.

       Sorry John McCain, but your crazy old man eyes don't frighten me at all.  If you thought that bamboo cage was constricting, let's see what you think of my figure-four choke hold.

       I don't give a flying fuck how things were back in your day. Today you are going to meet your maker. Then we are going to turn your lawn into a blacktop so that all the kids in the neighborhood can play foursquare.

       If I were him I would have used the PIT maneuver, causing that incontinent old dyke and her gas guzzler to slide harmlessly into someone's lawn. Then as I was driving past I would have fed her a molotov cocktail.

To be honest, I'm not entirely confident about this one.

      

       It is common knowledge that old people like to horde all their money, as if they will somehow be able to buy their way into heaven. But if me and my brass knuckles have anything to say about it, they will first have to experience hell on earth.

I would not harm this gentle spirit. 

       If you want to walk around with that shit-eating grin on your flabby old face, then don't be surprised when I make you eat shit.

       This is probably the old person who has pissed me off most as of late. I would put on my big boots and kick him in the pearlies, and when he bends over I would just sulk him in the ok computer with a bunch of spinning plates. Then he wouldn't feel so lucky. He would wish he was bulletproof and want to disappear completely, but I wouldn't tell him how.

       Okay, all joking aside, it's time for you to get in the box, Andy Rooney. It's getting to the point where your "essays" are so boring they are making people impotent. You make the other people on 60 Minutes seem vivacious by comparison. I strongly suspect you have been legally dead for six or seven years now. Don't worry, you can be buried with all of your decorative books.

       And tell your crazy-as-shit brother that having to wait until the ungodly hour of 6pm to eat dinner at Western Sizzlin' doesn't constitute abuse.

       In the future, we will have robots to give old people their just comeuppance, while we sit on the couch and eat grilled cheese sandwiches made by other robots, but until then I have my work cut out for me.

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