The elderly are ushering in the end times.

Nothing is a more prescient warning of the impending apocalypse than the sight of a fragile octogenarian moving through the winding tunnels of the NYC subway system, confused, lost, and racist.

She is someone's bigot grandmother whose children have long since severed ties. He is the racist great uncle whose only son died in Vietnam and can no longer wear lace-ups because of his bigoty, arthritic hands. With each hateful, belabored step they slow down the progress of all the tolerant commuters. Their mere presence depresses the collective spirit of the youthful, enlightened passengers. Oh God! These old people are soul-crushing! I don’t know if my open-mindedness can take it!

Research has repeatedly shown that crow's feet and catheters, whether physically present or simply present as a barely-acknowledged yet troubling mental irritant, negatively impact the work ethic of the buoyant, optimistic Young Americans resulting in a loss of billions of dollars to American businesses each year. In fact, the extent of these financial losses dwarfs even those of sexual-harassment payouts and the under-the-table plastic surgery procedures for board members combined. This aggravation is so detrimental to American corporations that 80% of Fortune 500 companies have now established permanent young persons centers, or PDCs as they are referred to in-house (Pretty Damn Cool), to combat the mental anguish any association with America's elderly bigot population causes. Inside these PDCs are rooms specially constructed for Seven Minutes in Heaven sessions, private theatres in which The Colbert Report, That’s So Raven, and all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are played in a continuous loop, and dorm style duplexes complete with multiple refrigerators and pantries stocked with Pizzeria Pretzel Combos®, near beer, Juicy Juice®, ramen noodles, and condoms. These PDCs are intended to distract employees from their unceasing thoughts of dying and/or dying a bigot, from vomit-inducing nervousness brought on by fearful days spent wondering what embarrassing, un-PC, and inconveniently life-threatening situation their bigot mom, dad, grandparent, or even godparent is getting themselves into, and from the general discomfort felt after watching an old person cry.

It is this same population, the bigoted elderly, which is unable to find the acceptable humor in and acceptable setting for racist jokes. Their laughter is that of the ignorant - believing the joke to be funny and appropriate instead of funny and inappropriate. They simply are unaware that the correct environment for a tolerant, white person to tell a black joke is in the company of other tolerant, white people. And never forget that they are also closer to death.

It is also pertinent to consider the manner in which the racist elderly complain with clockwork precision about the general demise of things, about how the youth of today are disrespectful, lazy, going-nowhere, free-lovin’ whores. Excuse me, but who were our teachers? That’s right, our elders. Can you chide the burnt cookie when the inattentive baker is to blame? And I take offense at the notion that this nubile generation is burnt or even overly crisp. We are the Young America that popularized YouTube and gave you Paris, Britney, and *NSYNC. If anything, we are slightly doughy.

So what is their function? To make us sad? To make us less liberal-minded? If so, their success is comparable only to the astronomical ratings glory of American Idol, Season Six - off...the...charts. It is imperative that we sever ties with these hateful ghosts of America’s past and renew focus on the tween market and its hummingbird-like attention span and ever-more-revealing low-rise jeans. The sooner the members of AARP are placed out of sight, out of mind (feel free to read that both figuratively and literally), the better and funkier the lives of Young America will be. For ours is a new national anthem, one to supersede the hip-replacement dirge of yesteryear. Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the singing of the national anthem, "SexyBack." And ours is a new pledge of allegiance, a work of significance to erase from memory the bedpan ode of our forefathers. And remain standing for the pledge of allegiance, the lyrics to "SexyBack."

I’m bringing sexy back
Them other boys don’t know how to act
I think you're special, what's behind your back?
So turn around and I'll pick up the slack.