Every day and in every way I’m more out of touch with the world around me. I’m stuck somewhere in roughly 1997, trapped in some sort of time warp or vortex or wormhole.

The world keeps changing but I still wear denim shirts I bought in the late 20th century.

I’m out of touch with fashion, technology and politics.

I still read print books and wouldn’t know how to turn on an e-reader. But I have heard of things such as Kindle and Nook. I know they exist. But that’s it.

I’m sitting in a Starbucks (gee, I know, what a surprise) and see guys wearing un-tucked T-shirts. I see it all the time. I guess that’s the style now. I’m wearing a collared Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirt that is carefully tucked into my shorts.

The world is moving on without me. That’s fine.

I remain in the past.

I’m constantly amazed at what is going on around me, people doing things at frenetic, even dizzying rates.

I was at a basketball game the other day sitting next to a couple I know. The woman had her cell phone out and was taking photos and videos. Her phone face was jam packed with icons for programs that I likely have never heard about let alone know how to use.

I have a cell phone. If it rings, I usually answer it. I know how to turn it on and make a phone call. That’s about it.

I’ve experimented and have taken a photo of a door at Kathy’s house. I proudly told Kathy I just took a photo.

But how do I get that photo to email or Facebook? I haven’t the faintest whisper of a clue.

If I really cared I suppose I’m capable of learning how to do that. But I really don’t care. I don’t care that I can’t get email or Facebook on my phone.

I’ll check my email on this trusty old MacBook when I get around to it. The same with Facebook.

I don’t need to be constantly tethered to the Internet, wired at all times.

Yes, it makes me a relic in 2016.

I revel in being a relic.

I don’t want to be like everybody else.

I was on an elliptical machine at the gym yesterday and as I slogged along, a fellow sat on an exercise machine in front of me. He wasn’t doing any chest presses on the gizmo. He was scrolling through all sorts of stuff on his cell phone.

I had my cell phone with me. If it rang I would have answered it. Probably. Well, maybe.

I got through the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s and 1990s without being constantly hooked up to Internet, which of course didn’t even exist when I was young.

So much is going on around me. Netflix. DVDs. Hulu. Streaming movies and TV shows Blu-ray.

I don’t know how to use any of them. It doesn’t really bother me that I don’t. I have my print books and cable TV. That’s enough.

I’m stuck in the past.

But the most troubling sign to this codger of puzzling and troubling change is the loathsome character we elected president.

Yes, I’m hopelessly old school but I think a president should be, well, presidential.

Instead, we have some carnival barker, reality show con man who appeals to the lowest and most base and greediest in human nature. He’s a peddler of lies and fears, misogyny and intolerance, hatred and ignorance.

Yet, about 60 million Americans voted for this scoundrel, this inarticulate opportunist incapable of speaking clearly let alone eloquently.

I can’t begin to comprehend how any sane, rational person could even contemplate for a second voting for such a monumentally unqualified and ill-suited lowlife.

But there you have it.

Life in 2016 America.

I prefer the past and my denim shirts.