Ask a 90-Year-Old Man

Our guest Advice Columnist this week is Ted Mowery. Ted is 90 years old and lives at the Hopeland Senior Living Facility in Mesa, Arizona. He is a Father of 3 (3 girls) and a grandfather of 6 (4 girls and 2 boys). He is a Widower and lost his wife, Lana, of 63 years back in 2018. He likes to watch the Chicago Cubs, Golf, and Western movies. He attributes his long life to a diet of Coca-Cola, Beer, and black licorice.

Seth F. – La Grange, Texas: I play in a softball league for men that are 40- to 50-year-old men. It is a non-competitive league. We have always had a lot of fun playing. Everyone has been friends for a very long time, and we all hang out together away from the ballfield, as well. We opened the league up to another team recently. These guys are anything but friendly. They are overly competitive. They wear metal cleats. They take cheap shots on slides and contact with our catchers on plays at the plates. They constantly argue with everyone about close plays to the point where they become screaming matches. They are really making this into the No-Fun league. How can we resolve this without asking them to leave the league? We don’t want to be hard assess and kick them out. We just want to find a way for them to tone it down.

Maybe you should quit wearing your bows, ribbons, and skirts to the game and toughen up a little, you complaining little girl. What’s wrong with competition. When I played ball, we used to sharpen our spike so we could draw blood when we slid into second base to break up double plays. We didn’t bitch and moan, “Oh no. You’re playing too hard. You’re too tough for us.” What the Hell is wrong with you? Don’t play if you don’t care if you win or not. Play to win! Back in my day, we played barehanded. None of your fancy baseball mitts. We used un-sanded bats. We wore the splinters on our hands as a badge of honor. Why don’t you go bake some cookies and cakes to bring to the ballpark for your next game, Sethafina? 

Larry S. – St. Louis, Missouri: My wife complains that I work too much. She gets angry when I work into the night on important projects. She gets very upset when I have to occasionally change our plans because work calls. I have been quite successful in my legal practice. And I am very proud of that. I just can’t get her to understand that it is because of my hard work that she is able to get the things that she desires in life. A nice car. Money to spend on clothes and shoes. Vacations. What is the most civil way to explain that I do what I do for US, and not just for ME?

First of all, nothing good ever came out of St. Louis. So, you’re a loser right off the bat. Second, nobody likes lawyers. When those commies in Russia drop the bomb, the only thing that’s gonna be left are cockroaches and lawyers to represent them. What is wrong with you, you little man? Why don’t you take her shopping for some new pants? Obviously, she’s the one that wears them in your house. Maybe you should bend over so she can slide her credit card between your ass cheeks and just take your money, you human ATM machine. You just keep giving her stuff, Moron. She’ll stick with you until the well runs dry. Then you’ll ask my advice again, and I’ll tell you the same thing. Grow a pair, Little Boy! 

Richard T. – Appleton, Wisconsin: I am a Pre-School Teacher. My job is to mold young minds and prepare them for what is to come next. Basically, I teach manners, sharing, and taking pride in what these wonderful children do. We go through our A-B-C’s, and I have the kids ready for math as we work on counting from 1 to 10. I have a child in the class that I think is very special. I have spoken with his parents several times about his behavior. He is quite out of control. I believe this is because he is so much smarter than the other kids and gets bored very easily. He is already reading at a second-grade level. Unfortunately, his parents are not very helpful and want him to stay right where he is at. I feel very strongly that he should skip a few grades immediately and move on to a higher grade. How can I get through to his parents?

You’re a waste of space. Pre-School? We never had Pre-School. You started school and there were no class names. You went to school because your parents said so. You were with dumb kids and smart kids. You learned to read and do math, or you failed. If you didn’t learn how to read, you went to work at the Mill. I had 12-year-old friends pulling double shifts at the Mill. They always had money on them. They were miserable at work, and they loved it. These kids that you baby along are going to turn into mental midgets because of you, Dr. Alphabet. These kids know you’re a fake. Where did you get your teaching license? Walmart! Make these kids do something so they don’t get bored and dick around. Teach them a trade. Let them know that if they want to flip hamburgers at McDonalds, they can just keep counting to 10 and take naps. The ones that can install an engine are the ones that will make a buck. Pre-School? Are you kidding me? Find something useful to do with your time, Jackass. No one has ever attributed their success to their Pre-School teacher. Grow up, Kid. You’re falling behind. These kids will pass you by while you’re still working on you’re A-B-C’s, Pre-School Teacher. You’re a Bum. In my day, you’d get your ass kicked every other hour on the hour… I hope that helps!