Guilty of Being 81!
September 8, 2010
I have to get something off my chest, dear reader!
What I am about to say should not come as a surprise to you as you read this . . . I write this column for the therapeutic value.
I certainly don’t do this for the monetary benefits. No one pays me one thin dime to write this column.
I am not complaining about that because I already told you I am doing this column on “BobGrantOnline.Com” for the therapy it offers.
After spending most of my adult life behind a radio microphone where at any one time there could be hundreds of thousands of listeners to whom I could sound off on any and every issue, and where I could receive feedback from loyal fellow citizens, I do find that in the time of Obama I cannot do that.
And as I took my morning walk just now, savoring the soft breeze and enjoying the warm sun which was not yet too hot because of the early hour, I thought of a prejudice that exists in America — an unyielding discrimination that seems to be OK with the civil rights crowd, the government, and virtually everyone with the exception of those of us who know we really don’t have an effective lobby where perhaps everyone silently acknowledges, “It’s all right, those old fogies have had their turn.”
I recall sitting in a lounge chair at the swimming pool the other day. An acquaintance of mine was seated close to where I was. A young lady in a scanty bikini walked by and I noticed my friend, who is at least as old as I am, catch me looking at him for the lecherous look he had given this pulchritudinous wench.
He smiled as if to explain, where no explanation was necessary, and said, “Well, I’m old, but I’m not dead!”
And that, my dear friends, is precisely the point.
I guess it is no secret, but I am 81-years-old. Isn’t that shocking? I say it is shocking to mock people who think that once a person reaches 70 or so, he or she should go out to pasture.
Actress Betty White hasn’t gone out to pasture. At 89 she is as sharp and talented as ever. However, I didn’t care for the language she used on a recent appearance on Saturday Night Live, but that’s just my prudish streak coming out.
The point is what are we supposed to do? Hey, how about I organize a mass hari-kari? Maybe that would satisfy those who really don’t like old folks.
I must admit I am, yes, I will say it for you . . . I am bitter.
Going through my files, since the Lady Josephine has given me orders to clean up the “studio room.” This is the room in the east end of the house that is really my radio studio. It is from here that I broadcast my Sunday 12 noon program.
It is from here that I am writing this column. And it is from here where I attempt to remind people I am still here and America won’t be here much longer if we don’t change the Congress in 2010 and the president in 2012.
It is also from here that I tell you what a bunch of hypocrites most people are. Everyone on radio row whom I hear from calls me the “King of New York radio, the dean of talk radio, the man who really forged ahead when there was no Rush, no Sean, no anybody.”
But, I suspect some people feel an 81-year-old guy is not fit to do what he has done for longer than anybody else. Maybe they think to do a talk show you have to be at least as strong as Hulk Hogan.
Forgive me for venting while you’re trying to read something about the shape of the world and all of that stuff that gets your juices flowing. Forgive me for getting here before you.
But, if you are lucky and take good care of yourself, you too will be guilty of being 81!