Good Old Days

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Once you reach a certain age, you will recall the good old days, or, specifically the days of your past that were good, as opposed directly to the current ones, which are not as good or even bad. In fact, now will never be as good as then: by the time you finish this article, your memory of its contents may well be in the good old days, though not necessarily as part of them.

Competing Theories of Old Day-related Goodness[edit]

Old Man Grumpus would rather get high than have to spend another waking moment thinking about the good old days

Everything was Better Then[edit]

The most popular theory of the good old days is the everything was better then theory. This theory maintains that a previous generation (or generations) enjoyed a more pleasant and urbane existence than the current generation. This theory is generally held by angry old white men, embittered post-menopausal women, and post-local music scene twentysomethings.

A similar variant of the everything was better then theory is the remember back in the day? theory, which is held only by grumpy old black men.

Nothing was Ever Good Except During a Finite Historical Period[edit]

A second theory, which is more rare, is the nothing was ever good except during a finite historical period theory, which holds that a certain time period - say, early 17th century France - was and shall ever be the good old days, indistinct of whether or not people living during that time were having a good time at all, or whether the person who considers them the good old days was actually alive during that time.

This theory and all its variants is championed by conspiracy theorists, Reese Witherspoon, and ninjas (who look to the early Tokugawa period as the good old days).

Monday, August 3rd, 1953 and Saturday, January 23rd, 1965 are the Only True Good Old Days[edit]

A third theory is Monday, August 3rd, 1953 and Saturday, January 23rd, 1965 are the only true good old days, and you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who believes this theory. Notable exceptions include Dick Cheney, your neighbor, and the late Strom Thurmond.

Old Man Grumpus[edit]

After losing control of our laptop, Old Man Grumpus had to console himself with a soothing bowl of hydroponic chronic

In search of answers, we went in search of an expert on the source matter of the good old days. Unfortunately, we found Old Man Grumpus, who seized our laptop from Terry and proceeded to write the following diatribe using Microsoft Word:

Let me tell you a thing or two, you young bastards. Let me tell you something you don't want to hear: everything that you enjoy is total crap. Everything. All of you with your loud rock music and Britney Spears and your Sprite Remix - in my day, the good old days, we didn't need that. We had Sprite, all right, and it didn't need to be remixed. Not at all. It was pre-mixed, and bubbly and fun to drink. We didn't need little black puppets with afros and basket-ball players to get us to drink it, either. No, sir, we just bought it at the grocery store - the grocery store, godammit, not a fucking Wal-mart you clueless kids are using these days - and it cost a nickel for a dozen.

Old Man Grumpus would rather have extramarital sex than think about the good old days.

Sounds good, right?

It's because it was good, the good old days, you stupid young buck. Let me tell you something elese, Larry! The person who sold you the Sprite wasn't some surly junior college dropout, but a well-mannered, attractive young woman who would fellate you if you asked her nicely enough! Yes, those were good days, indeed, drinking three or four cold Sprites while an attractive young woman licked your trouser-snake like a damned ice-cream sandwich! And back then, the ice-cream sandwiches were better - they were actually made with sugar, not with that Saccarine bull-shit you kids are using these days.

I hate you kids, with your Slip-knot and MDMA and your stupid fucking inter-net. Your days will never be as good as mine were! Never! Get off of me! This laptop is rightfully mine! I was in the war, you damned kids! Fuck it - fuck you all!1!! i'm off to gettt high !1! ihulbvs

At this point, Terry the short-sighted research assistant, with the assistance of The Smoking Monkey, were able to subdue Grumpus and retrieve our laptop. Seeing that our investigative work was simultaneously ruined and validated at the same time, we agreed to end this article, as it was, because it was going nowhere, fast.

See Also[edit]