I’m so old I don’t know what streaming is. And I don’t want to know what streaming is.
When I was young, it was a bad thing to be red. We called it “The Red Scare”. Red meant you were communist, and nobody wanted to be called a commie. I’m so out of it now that I don’t know if there are any true blue red countries left in the world.
Oh yes. The United States of America. According to the new labeling system, red represents Republicans. Since Republicans hold the White House, Senate and many state houses, that makes the United States red. I suppose Democrats are blue because they’re sad they lost all those elections. Okay, after making my brain understand the complexities of the shifting colors of politics, I have to go to bed and sleep nine to ten hours.
***
It’s now mid-afternoon of the next day and I think I feel well enough to delve back into the things I don’t understand because I’m so old.
Before I could write, newspapers used the word “hack” in stories about people who cut apart their relatives. The word “whack” was also popular in those types of stories. You know, Lizzie Borden took an axe…”
When I was a teen-ager in the 1960s, my generation began to undermine the integrity of the English language by giving hack a new meaning—“unable to accomplish or tolerate.”
“I can’t hack that class in trigonometry.”
“I can’t hack another family reunion and all the old people saying I need a haircut.”
Everything was all right with the word hack until the last couple of years. I’ve been hearing on television about sharing new hacks on creating a quick and tasty meal for the family.
I first thought of the Lizzie Borden definition of hacks and nearly lost my lunch. I know we live in a dog eat dog world but this is ridiculous.
Then I consider the other meanings. If you are unable or bored with cooking dinner, just buy takeout and forget about it. The segment began and the word hack means suggestions to make something easy to do. Like Hints from Heloise. Hacks from Heloise. I still can’t the image of Lizzie Borden out of my head.
Come to think of it, I do need to hire a gardener to cut back some tree limbs. I can’t hack the hacks I heard on TV to hack my trees. I don’t own an axe anymore, just a hatchet. I think I got that right. Maybe I’m not as old as I think.
Oops, I forgot podcasts. I have no idea what a podcast is. A movie about alien pods that are going to control our thoughts or make us young again. I think I have to pay the cable company extra to find out for sure. And they’re not getting another penny out of me, those money grubbers.
Okay, it’s official. I’m old. Really old.
And it’s time for my nap.