I Am 30 | William Thomas Online | William Thomas

I Am 30

Old Geezer by Ross Powell

Old Geezer by Ross Powell

I AM 30


by William Thomas



I have an important announcement you need to hear.

Go for it.


Henceforth, everyone who knows me and everyone I come to know, must regard my age as 30.

You’re saying that you are 30 years old.


I am demanding as my basic human right to be recognized as a 30-year-old person.

But your birthdate in late 1948 proves that you are, in fact, 70-years-old. Congratulations. Many people do not get that far.


I’m 30. It’s not difficult to pronounce. Say it.

It’s biologically ludicrous to insist that you be regarded as a 30-year-old. Do you really want to be seen as absurd? Some foolish old man insisting on his lost youth?


Never mind my so-called ‘biological age’. I prefer to be 30-years-old. End of story. And maybe your life if you refuse to sign this paper saying my real age is 30.

You’re asking me to enable a lie. I will not do it. And there is nothing ‘so-called’ about your body’s biological arc. You could say it’s… built-in.


Then I reject my biology. Age is fluid, right? I insist on choosing my own age among a smorgasbord of chrono-options. Subject to whenever I change my mind, of course.

You want to alter your actual chronological age through a simple declarative statement?


How would you like to wake up the morning after your 70th birthday and realize it’s all been a horrible mistake – that you’re really 30!

Just because you “feel” something doesn’t make it so. An entire country to the south is being run on a similar anti-reality agenda and it isn’t working out too great. What about how you tire easily, see somewhat blurrily, often forget what you crossed the room to fetch, and eat like that blackbird pecking at your feeder? 


Yeah. Well…

So why such an incongruous charade?


How dare you question my personal choice! I do not wish to be identified as a 70-year-old man because of an accident of birth. In sharp contrast to my years in elder-venerating Japan, I now live in a culture that reveres the supple prettiness and responsibility-free exuberance of youngsters whose neurons are still wiring together.



Having accrued some wisdom at much cost over many years, I have stuff worth hearing. I do not wish to be disregarded as a ‘useless old man’.



By young women who look right through you.


By everyone under the age of 30. In short, the kind of kids who would most benefit from my mentoring.


Kids. Right. So now this “mentor” wants everyone to see him as a 30-year-old?

And I want to be treated as such because I do not feel 70. Whatever that is. I do not enjoy being disregarded because of some ageist agenda that insists only youth matters.

You’re jealous. 


Not in the face of what’s coming.

But you are being ridiculous. As you just admitted, you certainly don’t look 30.


What do I look like to you?

Well, since you asked, a… an old geezer.


Thank you.

 For what?


For allowing your redundant prejudice to make such an easy target.

That was a direct observation. A statement of easily-demonstrated fact. Like with a camera. Or a mirror.


Haven’t you been paying attention? Facts are whatever anyone says they are!

Please excuse the eye roll.


I reject the ageist label you’re imposing on me. Besides, I am undergoing physical transformation. I’m taking testosterone treatments and I’ve signed up for tanning sessions, Botox surgery, Viagra injections and repeat applications of permanent “surfer-blond" hair-dye. Maybe some tats, too.

Bollocks surgery? That’s just silly. You can’t change your age. Attempting to reconfigure your fundamental nature will only confuse yourself, and either amuse or annoy everyone around you. And they will let you know it.


My body, my choice, buster. And be careful. ‘Fundamental’ is a red-flag for every algorithm monitoring our conversation.

Age reassignment procedures are risky. And quite painful. They cannot be unwound if you decide you don’t like the results – and fully 95% of those who think they want to change their age, soon change their minds instead. Also, age-changing surgery is accompanied by frighteningly high rates of suicide – around 14%.


In that case, the rest of society is going to have to get onboard with Old-to-Young folks like me. There’s more and more of us lobbying louder and louder for legislation to protect our inherent right to be whatever age we want on any given day.



Whether we’re in our slippers and hospital gowns, or leathers and motorcycle boots – we demand to be called OYYOs.


OYYOs! Old-to-Young, Young-to-Old. Depending on whether a person says they're younger or older than their birth year. You know. Younger to impress the chickee babes. Older to buy booze and cigarettes and get into racy motion pictures.

 Racy motion...?


Something wrong with your hearing, you have to repeat everything I say?

My ears are fine. I'm just not believing what I'm hearing. 'Chickee babes'? You want to get burned at the feminist stake?


The females I know don't burn steaks, sonny boy.

That was so lame.



Why don't you just declare yourself a woman? On Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, say.


Don’t be stupid.

Declaring yourself 30 isn't?


Better zipper your lips, kid. Your intolerance is showing.

Your intolerance of yourself is screwing you up, and making everyone around you even crazier than they already are.


Ignore these tremors at your peril. Under a pending amendment to bill C-16, if you refer to someone as “old”, you could be arrested and imprisoned for human rights violations – including hate speech, bad breath and age discrimination.

What makes your geezer gang so special you feel you can impose your views – and your bizarre sub-vocabulary of urgs and ziffers – on everyone else?


Because everyone else is doing it! By insisting on mass extinction, Western culture has apparently decided that the accelerating disintegration of the biological, geological, oceanic and atmospheric processes essential to life is not really happening and tomorrow will be just like today.

Which will probably be the case.


But what about the day after tomorrow?

Denial is truly a wonderous thing.


Thing is, if the “rights” of everyone demanding identity-affiliated victimhood are to be protected in countries like Canada, then all those climate-concerned school kids out in the streets saying they feel betrayed by the rest us must also be recognized, and this plundered planet protected by similar hate crime and anti-Earth-discrimination laws. Fair’s fair.

Calm down, gramps.


Whatever happened to sanity? Everyone chanting “inclusivity,” while rushing to accommodate every fragmented and divisive viewpoint, is contributing to the rapidly diminishing prospects for climax civilizations like ours. So let’s get going on carbon reassignment therapies!


91-year-old WWII pilot proves he's still got it

 91-year-old WWII pilot proves he's still got it

You need to relax more. Everything’s fine. Even if the U.S. breadbasket is currently underwater and a million dead climate-crippling calves are ironic compost, we’ll just plant rice and shop somewhere else. 


Good luck with that. Like all forms of relativism, one big problem with denial is if anything goes, nothing matters. And if nothing matters…

Don’t keep me in suspense…


All sense of the sacred evaporates. And when we persistently put our own preoccupations first, the loss of a shared narrative erodes everyone’s sense of transcendent purpose and meaning. 

You are a philosopher.

Look at the country of my birth. If obscene rates of suicide, drug addiction, crap-covered sidewalks, extreme weather disasters and constant gunplay are any indication, things are not working out too well on the delusion circuit. Ethnic-identity mobs are at each other’s throats. And “foreign” nations that do not feel foreign to themselves are refusing to follow Washington’s dictates.

That’s nuts. Why provoke a country that’s dropping a bomb on someone somewhere every 22 minutes?


Because the fantastical realms occupied by screen-riveted Americans do not fit the experiences of the 95% rest of us.


Jack Vartoogian:Getty Images

 Say what? -Jack Vartoogian/Getty Images

Trying to pass yourself off as a 30-year-old seems even crazier.


You think? As kichi-gai as claiming another race, with all its codes and heritage, as my own? Once seen as cultural theft, if not outright delusional, we now have various persons telling interviewers their black skin is white and vice-versa, while a talk-show host asks her guest if she thinks it's "physically possible” for a white woman to have a black father – as someone, apparently is claiming. (The guest nods thoughtfully and says, why not?) These are the End Times the Hopi talked about, right? Or is this just for practice? 

Don’t worry. In this grave new world, hurting anyone’s feelings will soon be an actionable offense.


Then we’re all busted. Because instead of being intrigued and inspired, someone somewhere is always going to feel threatened by other perceptions, priorities and possibilities. And then the projections of their darkest impulses makes them the target of some organized conspiracy by distant strangers who are simply going about – or trying to go about – their daily business.

You’re saying, what’s good for the goose is good for the geezer.


(sighs) Why do I feel I’m wasting my time trying to get you to see the new me?

I don’t know. Because you are?

Broadmoor Hotel and Seven Falls -dickndebbuetravels.com

Don’t mess with geezers -dickndebbietravels.com

 发件人     William Thomas 2019