Typical senile old white people.
Mostly we sit in our air-conditioned sweatered cold condos writing letters to the editors of unread papers railing against the petty injustices inflicted upon us by an uncaring “they” somewhere out there beyond our desert landscaped yards in Sun City.
And really we aren’t senile, you just should have visited us before our afternoon martini time. Then you would realize that it’s not senility but just rotten personality.
Now, you do like yours dry, don’t you?