If you're over 30-35 all your best stuff was done in the old days. After that age you may think you're capable of good work but that's just the voice of experience taking the place of genuine challenge when you have to solve problems to survive rather than steal from youngsters and call it your own or worse, claim it was stolen from you. The older you get the more you succumb to the narcotic of experience, and you really think you a smart son of a bitch rather than a nodding dopehead dreaming of the glory days. But nothing narcotizes like success except having no need to deal with the unexpected. That's why loners and hermits have it right, hate the world, shut out all attempts to socialize, concoct deeply satisfying explanations for why the solitary lifestyle is a winner rather than a loser. Attack anybody who disturbs your fantasy. Avoid mirrors, families, any reminder of what you used to be before climbing up into your dark hole of self-satisfaction. This is a voice of experience screaming at you the truth you dumb motherfucker, you, you, newbie. Newbies scare the shit of of oldies, seeing in them certain disrespect, ridicule, erasure. Even when newbies try their damnest to learn from the oldies the venerable farts can't bear to be used as stepping stones -- as if they never did that, and are not now robbing the newbies under guise of disdaining them. Best thing about cpunks is nobody is over 30-35. Most way healthier than that or wisely pretend to be. Meanwhile the Net geezers are agoing sclerotic heading boards and advisory panels, doing nothing challenging, burnishing each others' reputations, fencing what they thieve from students and prowling the Net for easy pickings. Mostly, though, checking on the times their names are cited. Boosting that with neat tools purpose-built for backdating and touching up wild-age rants into golden-age nuggets.