Old guys talk like this.

Until recently, I was a follower of Roger Ebert on Twitter. His political jabs were just that: quick and painful for the recipient. And his essay on losing the ability to eat still stands as a testament to his skill as a writer. But after a while, it was like he turned into a social networking version of Humbert H. Humbert, unable to share in the endeavors of a younger generation, and only hoping to soak it in through his pores while he shuffled slowly through the crowd. He started engaging younger readers in a bizarrely juvenile fashion, and then just wouldn't. Stop. Posting. I had to cut him loose.

Now I see that Roger's gotten himself into hot water with that very same youngish crowd he'd been digitally communing with. He has published an essay titled, "Video Games Can Never Be Art," in which--well, you can guess what point it is that he's making. Video games aren't art because there's user choice; art demands a creative voice that is immutable by the observer. It's obvious he knows very little about video games, but it's his opinion to hold.

I compare this with sports commentator Tony Kornheiser. I've listened to Mr. Tony for years. Since he was on ESPN Radio proper, and not just on a local Washington, DC, affliate. And let me acknowledge: he was old then. But lately, with commentaries on how he doesn't trust ATMs, and how he never even keeps, much less uses, debit cards, and how self-checkout frightens him, and now his relentless ridicule of a science he doesn't understand and therefore cannot value (vulcanology)… Well, I'm not ready to unsubscribe from the podcast, but I'm getting close.

I suspect that Kornheiser would espouse the same sentiment as Ebert about video games. Kornheiser regularly rails against movies with blue people and furry short people, and cannot imagine that animated films could have anything to offer him. His default position, which takes much shaking to dislodge, is that anything drawn is for children. Anything colorful is for children. Anything with children, dare I say, is for children. He is working his way past the wisdom that comes with age, and is now setting up shop inside the unexamined life. It might still be worth living, but it's not as much fun to listen to.

As I sail farther into my 30's, I'm reminded that there's a lot more old ahead of me. I hope it doesn't sink its teeth into me like it appears to be gnawing at these two old newspapermen.