You know you’re getting old when the cops start looking less like “No sir” and more like “No, dear”. We went to the disc golf (henceforth known as DG) course today , and as we were walking along beside the park road after P let fly a wild shot, a cruiser drove by. I glanced at the driver, and he was twelve. I have underwear older than the people sworn to serve and protect us. I am glad that the cops are around the park often, though, ’cause it helps the Future Criminals of America at bay. Loudmouth little fuckers in their saggy-arse camouflage pants and enormous sweatshirts with the hoods up when it’s eighty degrees. Jeezus I hate kids. Yeah, I’m old. Half a step away from shaking my cane at the whippersnappers on my lawn.