Curmudgeon: a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man. Crusty: giving an effect of surly incivility in address or disposition. I call myself The Curmudgeon, like a title, and I often write like one, but in public, with other people, I am unusually tactful, affable and easygoing. That doesn’t mean that I enjoy crowds, parties, or groups. I don’t. “Small talk”, the glue of networking, is alien to me, usually banal, bland, boring and a waste of the kinetic energy of moving vocal cords.
Speaking of vocal cords, I am the polar opposite of President Trump in verbal pronouncements. I filter everything I say, weighing possible consequences with possible benefits, and often decide not to speak when I don’t like the equation. He seems not to filter anything. A big advantage of my habit is that I don’t have to pretend that I remember exactly what I said, or didn’t say, years ago. I was in love with a woman in 1973, but we were just friends because she was dating her future husband, but I don’t have to wonder if I was inappropriate with her. I wasn’t, and this isn’t bragging, it’s a decision I made a long time ago. There are simply some things that never pass from my mind through my mouth; mostly unsolicited advice and gratuitous criticism. Just because you think it, do you need to say it? Trump ain’t alone in saying yes, it’s a disease of post modern America.
Now that I’ve gotten that off my proverbial chest, I want to comment on the photo above. Is this a prejudice, or am I right? Someone who dresses and is “groomed” like that, even without the noodle crown, is probably a true curmudgeon. His expression and general presentation says to me, “keep away“. I imagine the crown is meant to illustrate social distancing in a metaphorical way, but it falls short, literally. Three feet isn’t six feet (the guideline). I would hope he’s trying, consciously, to provide comic relief, but the grooming and facial expression does not exactly project, “laugh at me”. Go ahead, try, it.