Criticult.Com

Yes, I said it. I came out and said it. Is it politically correct? No, but scroll down a few weeks and you'll see how I feel about Political Correctness.

Is it something you yourself have often thought? Yes, it is. Don't deny it. Are you telling me you haven't approached checkout at the grocery store after 30 minutes of shopping hell, ready as a wrongly convicted felon to get the hell out - but you have more than 15 items so the express checkout is a non-starter. You peruse your available choices and are faced with the following scenario:

• Lane Four - Disinterested looking teen at the register. Line is backed up like Rob Reiner's colon.
  
• Lane Five - Single Mom alert - two carts filled with Captain Crunch and Similac with three kids hanging like screeching bats from each one. You want to walk up to her and tell her there's a Sam's Club down the street and that condoms are in aisle five but there's no reason to make a scene. You just want to pay for your crap and then get out. Shopping for groceries sucks almost as much as shopping for clothes.
  
• Lane Six - Hippie Guy with a cart full of organic produce, soy milk and Scooby Snacks who insists on using his own landfill friendly hemp bags for everything. This is going to take a while. In line behind him is Comic Book Guy with a week's worth of Mountain Dew and Totino's Pizza.
  
• Lane Seven - Holy shit, it's empty. People are walking right by it like it isn't there. Sweet deal - you high tail it over to lane seven, sneering at all the suckers trapped in line behind Shaggy and Future Jerry Springer Guest.
  

That's when you see it. There was a reason nobody wanted to get in line at Lane Seven. You glance over at Lane Eight and make contact with NASCAR Guy - belly perched like an asthmatic pigeon on his shopping cart full of bratwurst and Light Beer and his beefy little hands wrapped around an issue of Weekly World News. His eyes twinkle with mockery as though he's at his favorite dive bar, nursing a warm pitcher of Bud Light while watching a college kid try to order something decent like Sam Adams.

"Today isn't your day, Fancy Boy." He seems to be saying.

Yes, there's only one person in front of you in Lane Seven but in this case one is enough. It is Little Old Lady with Twelve Items, A Bag Full Of Nickels And A Mason Jar Full Of Coupons.

There's nowhere to go. All the other lines are full. You're trapped, my friend. Your next stop, the sign post up ahead. The Twilight Zone.

You know what's coming. She disputes the price of everything in the cart...

"I thought this was ninety eight cents, you rang up ninety nine."

"Last time I was here milk was cheaper."

"I have a coupon that's fifty cents off, and would like to combine it with this coupon that lets me get two for one."

"That seems a little high, I need to speak to the manager."

"Maybe I should write a check, I don't want to use all my nickels. Now, where did I put my pen. No, I can't use your pen because it is on a chain and I don't like that. It's too hard to write. Just give me a moment, I am sure my pen is here somewhere. Then again, I do hate to have carried all these nickels in here for nothing..."

And the hits keep on coming. You're going to be in line for three hours over a horoscope book, some beets, a couple of cans of creamed corn and some Metamucil. Single Mom and her $450 of pop tarts is long gone. Comic Book Guy has been back home playing World of Warcraft for half an hour.

It is then that you realize that the country would be better off if Old People stayed home and had their food delivered to them. That way they can't hold up the line at the grocery store trying to redeem coupons from 1989, they can't plow their cars into the Farmer's Market and best of all they can't disturb you by acting as a stark reminder of your own fragile mortality.

They can rest at home in climate controlled comfort watching game shows, grousing about young people and reminiscing about how much better things were when FDR was President. Better for them, better for you, and better for me.

And in case you're wondering yes, I will gladly abide by my own rules if and when I am old. As a matter of fact I have to constantly remind my beloved but constantly brooding grandmother to take heart, because she has into her eighties what those of us in our thirties would pay real money for - unlimited time to do what we want when we want.

The bright lights, noise and bustle of the world isn't for you. Stay home and enjoy your golden years and let the many services and products made possible by your decades of hard work finally work for you.

And more importantly, save me some time. Just as your fellow octogenarians can't wait to hear how angry young people make you, all ten of my loyal readers are clamoring to hear my opinions on how angry you make me.

It's the Circle of Life. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.