After a shot of prune juice and some high-grade grits, I like to turn on my television set for after-dinner enjoyment. As I was slowly perusing through the channels on the TV box yesterday, I noticed an alarming fact: these young whippersnappers just don’t know their place.

I see supposed gentlemen walking in their long-john low-pants and their backward hats. And it disgusts me to no logical end. And this is considered taste!

When I was a boy, the only “high class” outfit I owned was my birthday suit, and that was stained thanks to years of neglect. When I went to school, I had to walk 42 kilometers each way, in the snow, barefoot, hopping on one leg, with a giant sign hanging over my shoulders that told of a local mattress store’s President’s Day sale.

Anyhow, these kids today have these “cars” that magically “drive” them all the way to their air-conditioned schools. My parents did not buy me a car. They perished in the bubonic plague years before I was born (life insurance kept me afloat).

These rude youngsters appear to me as irresponsible, wimpy men. Their skinny, slinky cheeseburger-ridden bodies defame all that was glorious about 1920s gloss.

One brutally cold winter’s day found me immersed in a doomsday swirl of frost-sworn deathsicles. It was minus twelve degrees at school and what did we do? We performed acapella versions of Tin Pan Alley songs in the schoolyard, while barrels of Hearst-sponsored newspapers burned in used oil barrels.

And on the good days, we would paint pastel portraits of the irreplaceable John D. Rockefeller, the founder of our formerly grand country. The state of the nation has fallen into a disturbing downward spiral, full of “Nintendo 64s” and “grunge” music.

I’ve even heard of something called “fried chicken by the Colonel.” What is this?! In my day, our military officials were a proud people who would never lower themselves to hawking grease-smothered “nuggets” for the general public’s filthy money.

Why, I remember when our dollars bills were in black and white! What is happening to America is a disgrace to the great likes of Moncure D. Conway and Charles James Fox. Even men like Guy Debord would be ashamed. And why should he be? He has no reason except for his human heart.

And that, you young fools, is what the core of this debacle is all about. Heart is what this generation lacks. Heart is what this generation needs. Don’t you see?

Please refer to the greater good (Civics 101 at BCX3) for more on this subject. Excuse me, while I sloppily apply my listerine-drenched dentures. I smile for no one but carnival rides and young waitresses of the South.