Warning: Dumb-ss ahead...

[WARNING: IF THE TERM DUMBASS OFFENDS YOU…WELL, I GUESS IT’S ALREADY TOO LATE]

I saw a guy walking down the street this afternoon wearing what used to be called an undershirt and is now colloquially known as a wife beater. He was also wearing white boxer briefs. I know this because his trousers were sagging so low he had to walk like a penguin just to stay mobile. When I saw this winner, the first thing that raced through my mind was: “Dumbass.”

Now before you start whining about freedom of expression and cultural sensitivity and generational fashions and some other such gobbly-gook, I’m there already. I get it. I’m no longer cool. My hipster days are long gone. Nowadays young women look at me and think one of three things: 1) Wow, he reminds me of my dad; 2) Wow, he reminds me of Carl Winslow; or 3) Wow, I really need to get to the gym.

Still, my age and lack of coolness aside, I’m just not feeling the butt thing. (I suppose there might have been a better way to say that, but…oh well.)

There’s a lot of current culture that I’m just not feeling. Tattoos, for instance. Time was that unless you were a sailor or a biker or a member of Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey’s side shows, tattoos were an intimate, private thing. Nowadays I see pre-teens with tattoos on their necks and legs and backs—and not the kind that come off with soap and water either. I saw one middle school young lady the other day at Megalomart with a tattoo on her neck that read Juan’s Property. I guess I’m getting a little jaded because what was most surprising to me wasn’t the tattoo itself, but the fact that the apostrophe was in the right place.

Since I’m on my soapbox, let me just add one more cultural, social, and fashion faux pax: the grill. Again, I love a good grill. Throw a healthy piece of salmon or rib eye or even eggplant on some small metal rods with hot coals underneath and I’m there, man, ready for dinner. Place those same metal rods in a person’s mouth, spell out “G-money” in fake diamonds, and this time I’m ready to lose my lunch.

True story: I was at a cafeteria a year or two ago and I saw a fellow have a conniption fit because he had taken his “grill” out while he was eating and placed it on his tray. As he was paying and about to leave the restaurant, he realized that he’d lost his precious mouth piece. My lunch mate and I watched with amusement as he tore through several garbage cans, sifting through dozens, hundreds of discarded meals until he found his missing “grill.” Upon locating and wiping his trophy on his tee shirt, guess where he placed it next.

Dumbass.