Disabled all my days I’ve fought for sixty years just to be in the room, on the trolley, inside the china shop. Now with grey hair and wrinkles I’m not just blind, I’m an old fart. In a nation that celebrates “new” as its chief fetish ageism is widespread and lord knows it’s the subject of many great works of literature. (Tillie Olson and Hemingway wrote rather beautifully about it.)
So I’m an old blind fart. “Ding Dong!” “Who’s there?” “The Old Blind Fart!” “The Old Blind Fart Who?” “The One Who Ain’t in the Cemetery Yet!”
Ageism says the old have zero value. Since the disabled also have no value the OBF is doubly without value which sounds algebraic.
I’m the Boolean Blind Old Man.
Martin Amis: “And meanwhile time goes about its immemorial work of making everyone look and feel like shit.”