Peelin’ groovy

Earl Fowler

Now that we all wake up in terror each day here in Noem Country for Old Men — with the grubby hands of Cadet Bone Spurs, puppet-master Putin, power-intoxicated Xi, Hindu fascist Modi, avaricious Orbán and all the other chinless old plucked buzzards soiling everything they touch — a small measure of solace can be found in the fact that some things never change.

It’s sweetly reassuring that many equally antediluvian boomers continue to cling to the how’s-it-hanging argot of their halcyon days of youth as tenaciously and loyally as they adhere to the Motown sound and first-generation rock’n’roll that blew their minds as teens (and the noses of some as adults). For the faithful, dope springs eternal.

Still. That was then, you eternal flower children. Today, after covering me in roses — mistakenly assuming I had joined the recently departed because of the marbleized yellow cast of my flesh — a New York City divorcée blew my nose and then she clipped my nails. I didn’t put up much of a fight. Gimme, gimme, gimme the honkytonk snooze.

Yesterday’s counterculture has morphed into the service counter at Tims, where the new Ryan’s Signature Donut isn’t the only soft, fluffy confection coated in a buttery glaze with a maple syrup-based icing drizzle. That’s an apt caption for what remains of the Class of ’76, posing for their 50th reunion photo.

Thing is, now that everything is hanging pretty much everywhere, the meanings of once-trendy slang terms must perforce be adapted to reflect the grim exigencies of aging. For my g-g-g-generation, before we all f-f-f-fade away, “sick” doesn’t mean dope, awesome, wicked or amazing.

It means “sick.”

So in a gratuitous act of DeBriefer Madness, here’s an updated, 10-part lexicon for all you quicksilver guys and boho babes, straight-shooting sons of a gun and granola girls, still hanging out just a half mile from the railroad track:

Pulling an all-nighter. Then: Partying till daybreak. Now: Making it all the way to daybreak without getting out of bed once to pee.

Outta sight! Then: Excellent, amazing, outstanding! Now: Any object outside a three-metre radius while you search for your bloody glasses.

Groovy. Then: Cool, hip, far out. Now: Your whole face. Just kicking down the cobblestones.

Far out, man! Then: Mind-blowing, wild, incredible. Now: Anywhere that requires more than one flight of stairs. (Speed up. You move too slow. You should’ve arranged for a tow.)

Can you dig it? Then: Do you understand? Now: Anyone have a trowel handy for repotting the philodendrons? Tripping. Then: Using psychedelics to expand your mind. Now: Carefully planning bathroom stops on a road trip so as not to expand your behind. (I see the bad moon a-rising.)

Shakin’ all over. Then: Dancing with exuberant abandon. Now: Trying to get that stubborn last pill out of the bottle.

On the flip side. Then: Later, alligator. Now: The side of the mattress that feels less like a crocodile.

Stayin’ alive. Then: Disco anthem, living it up. Now: A daily achievement worth celebrating. Ah, ha, ha, ha …

Keep on truckin’. Then: Stay cool and keep moving forward. Now: Stay cool and keep buying generic sildenafil. (Oh snap, did you say truckin’?)