Coot: (n) a foolish or crotchety person, especially one who is old
I have officially become old enough to become a coot. I’m not sure what age qualifies you, but age is certainly a factor.
There are other considerations:
Coots always talk about “how good things used to be.”
Coots tend to refer to society as using a “handbasket on their way to hell.”
I honestly don’t feel any of that whatsoever.
Many of my growing-up years were filled with ignorance, prejudice, anger, self-righteousness and bloodshed in an unrighteous war. So I don’t yearn to go back—I just insist that there are two things the human race can’t live without, and we should cease deleting them from our browser.
Human beings must have empathy and self-deprecation. If you don’t like the idea of self-deprecation, then insert humility.
When we stop feeling empathy for the man or woman next to us, we become enemies to our own species, similar to a bee who plots with the flies to steal the honey.
And when we don’t produce adequate humility, the obnoxious odor that comes off our being chases people from the room.
I’m not an old coot. I don’t care who you sleep with. I don’t care what your political party is. I don’t care what your faith or lack of faith might be.
But when you mess with empathy and humility, I will dig my heels in, because then you’re plotting the destruction of the human race—of which I am proudly a member.