Are you a Sagacious Senior, or a Cantankerous Old Grouch?

Barry Kenyon’s confession that he is 75 years old and possibly past his sell-by date inspires an idea. (I didn’t say it was a good one.) 

I wonder how many letter-writers to this column are old farang who have nothing better to do with their time than sound off to the readers of The Nation on every issue that agitates their neurons. I can think of several who might fall into this category, including my venerable self.

To identify this special class of scriveners, I suggest that letter-writers voluntarily reveal their ages at the end of their epistles. That would enable readers to identify them as Sagacious Seniors (on the high end of the spectrum) or as Cantankerous Old Grouches (on the low end).

I personally like to think of myself as a Senior Sage, but as time goes on I find myself sinking inexorably into the Grumpy Old Man category. Knowing our ages would enable readers to evaluate our views more accurately.

There are also the Rabid Vegetarians, the Flying Saucer Fans and the If You Don’t Like It Here Go Homers, but I won’t get into that.

Just trying to be helpful,

Ye Olde Pedant

(78 and getting senile)