About

Old Fart is older than some people, and younger than others, in many more ways than one. Born in 1950, he is a card-carrying member of the baby-boomer generation. As a young man, he was neither a hippie nor a jock – just an average person who didn’t usually follow the crowd.

Born and raised in Illinois, he enjoys the wide-open spaces of farmland. He has lived too long in cities, and would love to live where there is some elbowroom. He prefers to think of himself as a skeptic, not believing anything that doesn’t have a solid basis in science, fact and reality.

He works a nine-to-five job barely making ends meet. He’s separated from his wife by his own doing, and separated from his “girl-friend” by circumstance. He’s a bit of a loner, though not so much by desire as by default, having never really cultivated any friends other than family. After separating from his wife, he lost all those “friends” and seems unable, or perhaps unwilling, to find new friends.

He is moving towards the future like a blind man on ice, not having a clue what is coming and assuming he is going to fall on his ass at any minute. Hopefully he will pick himself up again.

This blog is his attempt at sharing his journey as he tries to make sense of the rest of his life. Hopefully, sharing the experiences, trials, tribulations and terrors he experiences along the way may give comfort to others who find themselves in similar circumstances, if for no other reason than to assure his readers that they are not alone.

The older he gets, the crankier the Old Fart gets, so in addition to writing about his personal experiences on the relentless march to the grave he will be prone to bitch and moan about the state of the world, and the United States in particular. He acknowledges that his opinions are, indeed, only opinions, and expects anyone silly enough to read his rantings to understand that.

While he would love to be able to tell his tales in a way that would make people laugh, he knows that he has not been endowed with the proper humor genes. If humor evades his efforts, then he will resort to verbal musings, leaving it to the reader to determine his words’ worth.

Finally, the Old Fart wants to thank you for stopping by his teeny, tiny, little wormhole on the Internet. To have someone read even a word or two of his ramblings is at least some small validation of his existence, as sad as that sounds.