Who wants to grow older? I know I definitely do not, in any shape, way or form. This whole site is a manifestation of me not wanting to do so. With each year that goes by, you get just that much closer to expiring. I guess it’s a bad way of seeing it but, whichever way we want to word it in order to make ourselves feel better, it is exactly what is going on. With recent developments in stem cell research, we’ve gotten better at understanding aging and how to prevent it. Scientists say that in the near future (25 to 50 years), we will be able to stop aging and actually regenerate our body’s cells back to the desired age. In other words: eternal youth. How fresh would that be?

Just because I don’t want to grow old in such a short span of time does not mean that I don’t like old people. I have nothing but love and respect for our elders, straight up. These people fought wars, out-toughed harsh immigration barriers and made it through a much darker time than the current one, where certain basic rights simply did not exist. They have seen this world evolve from the radio era to the hyper-futuristic, ultra-HD digital age we’re in today. In other words: they done seen some shit. They build these cities only to later destroyed them. They have a lifetime of knowledge, a brain full of memories and a powerful heart. They are the reason we are here today, so it’s only right to recognize and show respect. Most important of all, they are beautiful. These are some of the older gods I ran into walking around in this city.

This is what I imagine most whiteboy Canadian writers looking like at age 69. The only difference is the bread in the bag instead of the paint.

These two beautiful ladies have this porch doing overtime. Every day I see them smoking stogues, saying hi to every single person that passes by. Not to mention the swag. Pure flames.

This beautiful Italian man has lived in NDG for more than 70 years. Not only is he a DG vet, he also helped build many of the underpasses, overpasses, big buildings and roads in the neighborhood. Still lives in the same duplex by Monkland Ave. Look at him, and acknowledge that it this is a real superstar of a human being, one who’s made your poor excuse for a life so easy to live.

The bus is a great place for observing old people. Again, pay attention to the detail and sense of style these older folks have going on.

Sometimes, when I’m really stoned, I zone into a face very intensely and all sorts of questions rush through my brain. What country is he from? Were is he going? How did he grow up? Does he have kids? How did his parents treat him? What’s his profession? Shit like that. Other than waste my time, it gives me a rush because the possibilities are endless. He might’ve raped and killed three teenagers back in ’72 when he was on vacation in Turkey. Maybe he was the first Russian to send a gerbil to the moon. You never know with these dirty old men.

I bet that at his age, you’ll take any excuse to get out of the house, even if it’s just to sit on a bench and watch the sluts as they pass by for a few moments during the brief summer months. This man is on his fourth dozen of eggs this week.

A strict diet of steamies, pizzaghetti, Pepsi and Labatt Bleu will have your stomach on swole after many so years of abuse, no doubt. But, with a beard like that, I bet bitches don’t even notice.

The worst part of getting old is the physical aspect. Losing your health sucks. This man looked like he just stepped off the set of Twelve Monkeys. Bugs were crawling in and out of that big suitcase, no word of a lie.

Please: sit back and analyze. One day, some hipster-bitch will have a field day when she finds her stash of clothes and accessories at Value Village.

Speaking of Value Village, the one on Pie-IX is filled with beautiful old people. Value Village really has them by the balls if you ask me. First, they get their money when they shop there, then they get their clothes when they die. Ain’t that a bitch?

The Portuguese park on the Main is an old man’s sanctuary. This guy was also featured in the Recykings post.

Either in a group cracking jokes or alone, pondering away, these men have one thing on their mind and it has everything to do with hardbody street chilling. This is me in 40 years.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this was Killa-EF’s father. I see you baby.

Half-man, half-amazing, 100% swagged out.

Not all old people are styling, tho. Balding-ass Baba Yaga was rocking some questionable attire. She looked like a Russian grandama version of one of them CEGEP Du Vieux gypsy sluts that moved to Peru after living in Laos for seven-and-a-half years, where she was helping village people shave mountain sheep. Her swag was all fucked up and all over the place. I wish I could’ve done a full photoshoot but sometimes, this is all I get.

As you get older, your skin deteriorates, your organs start to give out and your heart weakens. Your last days are spent in a retirement home where angry immigrant senior-sitters do horrible things to you and show you no real respect or affection. Everyone is just waiting for you to croak so that they can get their inheritance money and keep living large on what was built before them. It must be hard to want to continue under these kind of circumstances. I’m not looking forward to that.

All I know is this: the person that wiped your ass from birth until the time you were old enough to plop on your own is the person you must look after when they are shitting their pants before meeting their ultimate fate. It’s only right, kid. Hopefully, I’ll raise my children in a way that they will understand and appreciate this. According to grandma, my great-grandfather smoked weed all his life and still hollered at shorties from the balcony while flashing his erection until 91 years of age. He died at the crib with his whole family, happy as a motherfucker. Shit, I never met the mook but I will do my best to follow in his footsteps, for as long as I have on this planet. Love your elders and respect their gangster. This holiday season, stop being a selfish faggot and go pay them a visit, or give them a call if they live too far. Let them know that you appreciate the fact that they had sex a long time ago and made your parents who also had sex and made you. Listen to them when they talk. You might learn a thing or two that the internet could never show you.