Grumpasauris

Have you ever awoken one day in a bad mood and the bad mood seems to go on from day to day to day? After awhile the people you live with and work with start commenting that you are a grump and that you willfully refuse to see the good side of anything.

Let's face it. No one wants to be known as a grump or a curmudgeon for more than five minutes because to exceed the five minute limit is to pretty much close one out from invitations to lawn bowling parties, quiz nights at the local pub, and the attentions of young lovelies wearing tight sweaters and tight skirts (the latter does not apply in France where the young have been indoctrinated into Sartrean Existentialism, and thus a state of depression lasting from the ages of eighteen to twenty-eight). One finds one's self sitting in the corner of the local King's Head with other grumps and joykillers, both male and female, in an aura of too many too strong beers and pipe tobacco smoke talking to one another like the Finnish Debating Society i.e., "The world is going to hell." "Uhm." "Ah." "Ja."

No one wants to spend time with a grump, especially jeune filles wearing tight sweaters and tight skirts, and it ends up for the grump being a pretty lonely life filled with the conversations of other grumps. One becomes known as a "character" or an "eccentric." Truth to be told, one would probably be much happier and more appreciated by the public at large (especially by the local jung freulien wearing a tight sweater and tight skirt) if one decided to try to spool knit the longest spool knitting piece ever known to man or if one donned tan tights and leotard with brown hood and cape and called oneself Captain Beano: Super Hero.

It must be admitted by this writer that some thirty years ago he woke up one day in a bad mood and it has since that day thirty years of grumpiness. It hasn't been easy being the wet towel on the party, but, after so many years of the disease, this writer has finally realized that there is a value to being a grump. That value is a damping of irrational exuberance. Exuberance is fine when the dawn arrives with rosy fingers promising a fine day, but more often than not there are storm clouds that the optimist refuses to see. It's not the grump's fault that the optimist is soaking wet and cold by noon. The grump gave his warning. The grump realizes that in front of every silver lining is a cloud.
Burt Prelutsky, a writer this correspondent has read on and off for many years, seems to appreciate the value and the state of being a grump much better than the average Pollyanna:
Big Hollywood » Blog Archive » We Should All Be a Little Cranky

And if any lassies who like wearing tight sweaters and tight skirts and who ride Raleigh 3-Speed bicycles should read this entry, please do not hesitate to ride by the Manor to comfort an old grump. The fragrance of lilac or lavender on a woman has always managed to soften this writer's sharp edges.