I don't understand men who wear tight pants that stop four inches above their ankles, or men who care about maintaining the latest hair style enough to spend more than $15 for a haircut. I don't understand how I can have a very good job, no consumer debt, and not be able to afford the boat, RV, 750k house, and quarterly trips to Disneyland that it seems like everyone else along the Wasatch Front enjoys. Other than LinkedIn, which my employer makes me maintain, I do not have any social media accounts (unless CB is considered social media); nor do I have any desire to create any. When people refer to Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica, well, to me, Starbuck will always be a dude. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a stunt man, because, duh, the Fall Guy. I miss the days when it didn't take 45 minutes to an hour to get from one end of the Salt Lake Valley to the other during rush hour. I believe the world is passing me by, and I am becoming an old man. Get off my lawn.