Elderly people can be grouped into two distinct categories: those that are inexplicably happy and those who have a deep-seeded abhorrence for every facet of “newfangled” life. However, the group of happy-go-lucky, smiling elderlies who shine on the world with perplexing radiance is ever-dwindling toward nonexistence. And as the happy old folks lessen, they are replaced by the growing majority--the hate-fueled, matzo-ball-devouring grumblers who think that life is a plague, and they are the only hosts.

Enraged old folks are nothing new. In the Bible, right after the parable where Habakkuk, Boots, and Dora fight the grumpy old troll that lives under the bridge, there’s a short tale of an elderly man, Lester Lebowitz, told in Malarkey 12:96. It reads as such: “As Lester gazed upon the younglings who ran through his pristine garden, his anger blossomed like a flower in the spring, except with much more ferocity. So, truthfully, it was much less like a flower blossoming and more like a calf erupting from its dam. But that’s beside the point. Infuriated, Lester launched his unholy projectiles with as great a force as his brittle bones could muster; the children scattered, fearful of what wrath Elder Lebowitz had yet to inflict upon them. God frowned down on Lester from his holy heavens, disappointed that he had treated the young so barbarically.”

It has been 6,000 years since that passage was written and we have yet to fix the problem of the furious oldies. Every day, life maddens elderly citizens relentlessly, leading them to lash out with outdated racial slurs and inappropriate sexual comments.
For instance, as a second grader, I sold popcorn door to door in an effort to raise money for Boy Scout Troop 430. At one of the houses along my route, I happened upon a stocky elderly gent who I had never seen around the neighborhood before. Politely, I offered him the popcorn brochure and did my best to explain my cause and my product, though my speech impediment made me falter more than I would like to admit. The old man looked down at the pamphlet, then handed it back to me.
“What the hell’re y’sayin, son? I don’ want any damn popcorn. I don’ care if it’s covered’n chocolate er caramel er fake cheese. Go on to the next house, ya lil’ grommet. Try’n convince the next sucker to buy some’a yer s***.” Spit flying from his cracked lips, he slammed the door in my face, clicking the deadbolt shut. Then I, young and confused, plopped myself down on his porch and cried (with great vigor, as I recall).
However, this is not the only instance of elderly wrath striking undeserving prey. Every driver has been obstructed by some old bat doing 35 down I-94, or, worse yet, 15 in a 50 because there's a nanometer of snow on the ground. Why do they do this? Why must old people clog up traffic and destroy the enthusiasm of innocent boys?
Well, the world has done them a great injustice--by making them old, that is. The world has decided that their every bone should ache, their eyesight should wane, and their hearing should dwindle so much as to make every sound feel like it’s being heard from an old RCA that was dropped in a bathtub, thrown down the stairs, and finally buried by the fir in the backyard.
These physical changes, however, are not the most prominent reason for elderly anger, according to professional elderoligist Dr. James Franco. Franco claims, “The elderly are enraged because of the rapidity of change in our society. For example, very few people had even seen a TV before 1950. By the 60’s, 90% of households had a TV. By 2000, most had multiple--some even had a screen for every room. Today, they’re all thinner than a notebook page, HD, LED, and 1080p. Many now play ‘blu-rays’ or make use of video services such as ‘Netflix,’ ‘Hulu,’ or ‘Vudu.’  In just 65 years, televisions rose from a rarity to a household expectation, now adorned with made-up, new-age words, that--to the elderly--are incredibly confusing. For many of them, our technological growth is overwhelming.”
To the elderly, the new MacBook Pro is the worst thing to happen since Pharaoh’s famine. And the fact that the president isn’t still Ronald Reagan is terribly disheartening.  Nevertheless, we, the younger generation, need to understand that a lifestyle of constant innovation has made the crotchety, old man stereotype a reality. Nothing is the same as it was when they were our age. Teens no longer go to the local burger joint to split a malt with Johnny and Jane, nor do they grease their hair back and carry around switchblade combs like Ponyboy or Sodapop.
The chasm of differences between what their teen years were like and what ours are now is exponentially expanding, and as the contrasts grow we become more easily provoked by one another.  It’s not their fault, really. I understand change is hard, and adjusting to such vast differences must be even harder. So, next time Bernie or Ethel screams that you’re a “lousy, no-good kike,” do your best to shrug it off and cut the old geezer some slack. I know sometimes it seems like their anger is directed at you, personally, but most often, you’re just the closest target. And if they do really mean it, don’t sweat it too much; you’ll be okay, and they’ll be dead soon, anyway.