You’ve heard of old man strength, haven’t you? For the uninitiated, thousands of times every day some whippersnapper tries to mug some old guy outside the bingo hall and gets their ass handed to them when grandpa gives them a taste of what he gave the Wehrmacht back in the day. Or maybe you think you’re going to go all road-ragey on some old coot that’s driving a medicare sled in the left lane with his turn signal on, but you find out when you get to the side of the road that he won’t cooperate, and instead of pleading for mercy he gives you the old what-for. Beware old man strength!
So, young feller, you bought a Hayabusa or a Cowabunga or whatever they sell down at the rice rocket shop — and you probably had your mom co-sign for it, to boot– and you’re feeling like you’re the master of all you survey just now, but let me offer you a word of advice: Keep your eyes open and your trap shut when the old dudes are talking. You might learn something.
The Real John Carter Is More Interesting Than the Fictional One
“Let us cherish and love old age; for it is full of pleasure if one knows how to use it. Fruits are most welcome when almost over; youth is most charming at its close; the last drink delights the toper, the glass which souses him and puts the finishing touch on his drunkenness. Each pleasure reserves to the end the greatest delights which it contains. Life is most delightful when it is on the downward slope, but has not yet reached the abrupt decline.” –Seneca
They keep asking him about Instagram at the end, and are amused that he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. They can’t seem to grok that Instagram is the opposite of his life. The awful trick that social media plays on the unwary is to make them think they’re producing something. In practice, almost everyone is a consumer. It’s multi-level marketing, not media. There’s nothing wrong with being a consumer, and consuming media is no exception. However, if you confuse consumption for production, you’ll end up selling soap to your family members and going to meetings. Why not go to the pool with John instead? Stand next to him, and you’ll end up on Instagram anyway.
Four barrels are most certainly better than two. The only way this could get any better is if the shooter could grow an extra pair of arms, so he could shoot another two pistols. Then you’d get eight rounds down range every trigger pull. Imagine how many targets you could hit with that. A lot, probably. I’m not too good at math, but I know that eight bullets means eight barrels, and eight is most certainly more than four. It stands to reason that more is better because there’s no way that it could be worse.