You'd think they owned the planet. They think they do — pushing into line at supermarkets, hogging seats on trains, generally behaving as though no one but themselves existed except to provide the services they need.
Once upon a time — not very long ago — that was how the old talked about the young. Now, it's the young tweeting about the old. In both cases, the subtext is, "Have they no shame?" And the answer, in both cases, is, "Not at all; they have pride."
Once upon a time — not very long ago — the elderly possessed a treasured quality the Japanese call hinkaku, variously translated as dignity, elegance, grace, refinement, decorum. The elderly were decorum personified. They cultivated it, nurtured it, served as a model of it for their grandchildren. Grandchildren are a lesser consideration now. If there are any, they're likely to live far away. Increasingly, the elderly live alone — by themselves, for themselves. Their responsibilities in life fulfilled, what remains are entitlements — which, when not acknowledged, must be asserted. The resulting behavior, says the weekly Shukan Post, is plain for all to see, raising the question which headlines its article: "Where has elderly people's hinkaku gone?"