Well, I’m no longer a 77-YEAR-OLD WHITE MAN due to an unavoidable change in circumstances but still posting under that false title, which, I confess, makes me a liar. If you can’t figure out which adjective inevitably changed, I would bet the ranch that you scored big, fat, ugly zeroes on word problems in math. Well, I suppose I could have changed the noun, but the probability of that happening in my time of life approaches that dreaded number written in bright red on your exam papers.
There have been questions from far-seeing readers—well, maybe just one reader—about what I would do when the inevitable happened and why the hell did I choose a blog name that might make me a liar. I have no good answer other than to refer you, dear lonely reader, to a previous post in which I confess to being a Liar.
While I have no compunctions against lying, it was never my intention to lie this particular lie. I only started this nagging blog with the ridiculous and fantastic hope that I could remind certain family members of those halcyon days when we were all Antifa and that stalwart stance made our parents members of the Greatest Generation. Another in a long line of my many futile hopes.
Despite the futility of that hope, I continue with this bossy blog because it overrules my inherent laziness, prevails against my predilection to distraction, and commands me to continue doing that which makes me a liar.
The beauty and joy in this confession for you and me, dear reader, is that it is short.
Confessions of a 77-year-old white man 