I have no beef with people over the age of 25, but this week, if you're a "youngin'," just watch the hell out because you're dealing with The 34-Year Old Curmudgeon. I will lay out a buffet of whup-ass on you so hard that you'll wish your skinny jeans had extra padding in the seat area.

I'll show you places on your body you never would have dreamed an iPad would fit (with a little jimmying and perhaps some Crisco). I'll shake my imaginary cane at you and scream at you to get the hell off of my theoretical lawn, and take your hippity hop music and Pac-Man video games with ya, dammit!

While on my way to Friendly's for a reasonably priced meal of relatively bland and soft foods, if you're my under-25 server, prepare to be tipped in nickels, the bastards of the change world! Seriously, why are nickels so damned fat, anyway?

I'll drive slowly in front of you while you're in a hurry to get to Starbucks to buy some overpriced coffee and talk about your "feelings" and "emotions." Ha! Guess what? I had those once, too, and you know? Totally overrated!

I fantasize daily about beating you with your Bukowski books and smacking you around with your crappy music with toy pianos in it! Of stabbing you with your black-framed glasses! And you wanna know why?

Because I used to be just like you.

Now, where's my new