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Frisco Utopia

[whitespace] Honor the Ancients

By Hank Hyena

Enough already! i'm tired of our pitiful planet's absorption with and addiction to youth culture--why do we fawningly glorify the budding beauty, firm physique and foolish frivolity that banally blossoms in humans before they reach the full-fruited ripeness of their maturity? Larvae aged 13-35 receive reams of reverence in fashion, film, pop print and sports. Ut's mathematically illogical and cruel to the majority of our species because the bulk of us will wobble and wheeze on and on for another 40 or 50 or 60 years, feeling more monstrous every minute as our bellies, buttocks and breasts grow, released from the pert imprisonment of youth.

This yucky deification-of-youth consciousness that contaminates Earth must be radically reversed in Frisco Utopia. Let's dote on our doddering adults instead; let's slather senior citizens with slavish esteem. Below, I elucidate three marvelous methods that'll enable us to expertly honor our ancestors:

Old Athletes Only

Let's banish our spoiled sports leagues that only create boy-bullies, jock-jerks and arrogant ignorant overpaid idols (they just end up injured anyway, limping on tender tendons, chugging Vicodan for the rest of their lives). My proposal is this: Let's only permit antiquarians who are over 95 years old to compete in professional sports-- That's a strong sight, because everyone wins when you're ancient--it's a celebratory ritual about remaining alive, which is ultimately more interesting than watching the young and powerful push, pass and punt with a pigskin. Imagine basketball contests where canes are OK, and dribbling might mean incontinence--fun, huh? Let's coddle the codgers too--with puffy paychecks, crammed coliseums and grizzled groupies. Understand? My plan gives everyone who has ennui at 88 an excellent reason to survive--just seven more years and they can play in the majors!

Centarion Centerfolds

Next, let's genetically code ourselves so that we can regard wrinkles and varicose veins as erotic. We'll all immensely enjoy aging if we're programmed to view elderly attributes as irresistibly ravishing--fears of the mirror will vanish if we joyously await the arrival of hairy blotches, facial crevices and cellulite systems that'll skyrocket us into a stratum of intense sexual demand. Porn Photobooks in the upcoming Elderly Era would feature exclusively Centarian Centerfolds (100+)--naked battleship-vixens and decayed coots who preen the provocative wreckage of their slack limbs and loins.

Dinosaur Rock

Musical icons are invariably pimple-faced rebels who just got the afterbirth licked out of their eyes. Let's replace these burping brats with hemmorhoidal heroes who'll warble about the joy of senior discounts, arthritis, great-grandchildren and golfing resorts. Let's hum their catchy melodies as we trudge through the decades--let's hypnotize ourselves with silly songs that suggest that the Golden Years are indeed golden and good, instead of just the ridiculed rotting that our present culture has cursed them as .

Hate my ideas? Send your own to [email protected].

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From the August 2, 1999 issue of the Metropolitan.

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