(Randy Looney on being an OWG)

A Typical OWG circa 2014

For those of you who don’t know it (but if you are one, I assume that you do know it), OWG stands for Old White Guy. I can say that because I happen to be one and have been one for several years now. I don’t think that it is a derogatory term. I do think it is a fact. And if something is a fact, it is what it is!

So if you happen to see me walking down the street and say “Hey, that’s the OWG from the blog my grandfather follows.”, I’ll wave back and compliment your granddad.

We OWGs aren’t a bad lot. We’re a pretty nice bunch. I mean except when you cut us of in traffic and we salute you with our middle finger. Or maybe we only drive 75 mph in the left hand lane of a 60 mph highway and you drive right behind us as if you want to engage in some sort of aberrant sexual act. That one I never have been able to figure out.

Many of us babysit your rug rats and buy them stuff you and your wife wish we hadn’t. Hey, it comes with the territory; we get to treat them like you would have wanted to be treated. Besides, we’re trying to do stuff that will get us a good place in heaven.

But enough of that folderol. I have been thinking lately, what qualifies someone as on OWG? Since I am semi-retired, I have a lot of time to contemplate serious subjects such as this. Probably more time than I need. But considering I could go any day now, I would rather waste my time in contemplation than playing golf or tennis. To be honest, I couldn’t drive a golf ball if it had a steering wheel on it. And tennis, I’ve got tennis elbow, tennis knee, tennis bladder, tennis bracelets…no wait a minute my wife has the tennis bracelets. You get the picture. So as I’ve been wont to do of late, I’ve come up with a few ways you can recognize if, indeed, you are an OWG. Enjoy.


Mid Night Anxiety. If you are an OWG, you without a doubt have to get up two, maybe three times a night to pee. You might return to bed and start worrying about the time in grammar school you beat up Sheldon Zelinski because you could. You then immediately start envisioning him today and wonder Is he now CEO of a nationally known security company with contracts for security in war torn Belzaistan? With his ability to track down Bigfoot and other criminals, has he located my house and now has me under 24/7 surveillance just waiting to have some of his goons take retribution? Or some such crap.

Hereafter Syndrome. This is where you walk into a room looking for something and begin to ask yourself, Now what am I here after?

How much did did you pay for that? In your many years of negotiating for new cars, houses, vacation rentals, etc. you are convinced that each and every time you got into the other persons knickers. You stole it from them! You were a master of the deal! So when asked, your son or daughter tells you how much that new car costs. You immediately respond “They saw you coming and stuck it to you!” It doesn’t matter that you weren’t there at the table with them. They should have consulted with you before making any commitment. You know that you raised them better than that!

The Sixties

Hospital Hospitality. You are rolled into the emergency room and everyone there greets you on a first name basis. They know you from last year’s colonoscopy, heart cath and subsequent bypass surgery. Did I leave anything out? Oh yes, prostate radiation treatment.

The ’60’s. Are you talking about the decade with peace and?…er…I forget the other two.

Comedians. You quote Henny Youngman and laugh out loud. Everyone else wonders who the hell is Henny Youngman?

The ’60’s. Did I mention the 60’s?

The Cost of Repairs. You have a heart attack every time you find out that you can’t get a part for your kitchen blender or other appliance or tool. That’s because they discontinued it twenty-five years ago and no longer stock the parts. But, you can run out to the local Wallbanger Mart and pay $75.00 for a new one. When you were a kid, everybody carried replacement parts.

The News. You cringe when you hear that your grandkids are watching the latest popular comedian for their national news updates. BROCCOLI1THEY’RE COMEDIANS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, NOT JOURNALISTS! Where are you when we need you Chet Huntley?

Technology. You refuse to sign up for facebook, twitter or any other foolishness on the Internet. And that is evidenced by the fact that you still own a flip phone!

Food. You get a kick out of telling someone “Yeah, well I don’t eat broccoli because I don’t want to eat that crap! Besides, it gives me gas.” Then you chuckle because so does, watermelon, ice cream, water, Key lime pie, biscuits…did I mention water?

Hearing aids. You can turn them off !


Well, I feel a nap coming on, so I’ll get out of your hair. These are just a few of the ways you can tell if you are one of us. I’m sure that you can come up with a few more of your own. Just remember, if you can identify with least one of the above, you’re an OWG! Welcome to the club and be proud you’ve made it this far.


BLOGGER’S NOTE: Contrary to popular belief, Randy Looney is not my great uncle. He is a pretty good one, but I wouldn’t classify him as being great.  Jay


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