Our parents are weird now, right?
I have kids, man. I have kids and parents..
I'm a generation between two generations.
So, I'm taking care of my kids and my parents.
At one point I had four in diapers
and two of them were my parents.
(Laughs to himself)
Yeah, everybody got nervous on the diaper stuff.
Ooh.
A lot of you guys are in your 20s.
Look how beautiful you are.
All perfect and shiny.
Fifty years from now? Diapers every one of you.
That's if it works out. That's best case scenario.
So, my mother and father
haven't spoken to each other in 30 years,
and a year ago they both went into assisted living
at the same time.
I had to help them because I'm the sibling
that takes care of the parents.
So, I'm taking care of the parents.
And so, it's hard. If you've ever done assisted living
with an elder family member
then you know it's not easy.
It's time-consuming, heart-wrenching, expensive.
For me times two because they don't talk to each other.
So, I was holding out hope that
the dementia would kick in
and they'd lose their memory and I could
put them into a two-bedroom apartment together
and film that as a reality show.
You'd binge watch "The Crazy Old Parents
Who Don't Know Why They Hate Each Other Show."
"I don't know how you know my middle name
and I'm gonna find out."
Weird now... my father is 83.
he thinks computers aren't going to work out.
He'll tell me that, "Don't waste your money, son.
The whole thing is a scam."
He printed up an email and sent it to me in the mail.
He won't get an email address. He goes,
"That's how they get your information.
And then they know exactly where you are all the time."
I was like, "You haven't left the house in 7 months.
Everybody knows exactly where you are all the time.
Quit sending me letters
with human handwriting on them. It's creepy."
Everything is automated now.
We have email and the Post Office at the same time.
We're going to have to explain that in four decades
to our grandkids that we simultaneously
had email and the Post Office.
That's going to blow their minds.
They'll be like, "Grandpa, what was paper?"
"It was made from trees."
"What were trees, Grandpa?"
"It's not important, son. We've got oxygen tanks now.
Screw 'em. We don't need them anymore.
You'd write your little letter on a piece of paper
and then you'd fold it up
and put it inside of another piece of paper
that had a little door on it.
And that was called an 'envelope'.
Some people called it an 'än-velope'.
Those people were lunatics!
And you'd take your letter
to a dangerous, uncomfortable place
called a 'Post Office'.
And you'd wait around for hours in the body odor
and the lack of eye contact
'til you finally got to talk to an angry misshapen man
who lived with his mother
and had an inexpensive haircut.
That man would sell you a little sticker
you could put on your envelope
and you'd lick it and get cancer
and give it right back to him."
"And that's when they would deliver my letter?"
"No, son. A bunch of stuff happened after that.
They'd shove it in a slot in the back wall
where there were more angry people from bad families.
Those trolls would put it on an airplane.
It would travel hither and yon across the country.
Sometimes for weeks!
'Til someone finally discovered
it was on the wrong aircraft!"
"And that's when they would deliver...?"
"No, son. Not yet!
That's when they would accidentally deliver it
to the neighbor of the person
that you sent it to in the first place.
Then that man,
based on his relationship with his neighbor,
would decide whether or not that scumbag
was going to get his mail.