One of the fun things about getting old is that you get to be flustered about how the world's changed and you also get to scrunch up your wrinkled face in consternation at the Young Persons who perpetrate these changes. Lately, a favorite head-scratcher of mine is the current deification of hip hop artist Cardi B. As I type this (with my arthritic and knobby fingers CD tip — the very ones that will soon be crossed beatifically across my chest in a coffin), I'm completing my second full-listen of Cardi B's new recording, "Invasion of Privacy." Admittedly, there are a few pretty funny lines — including a laugh-out-loud, mid-sex-act self-congratulatory shout-out (check out album closer "I Do"). Otherwise, none of her bragging sounds new; the N- and B-word put-downs are tired; yes, I get it, Cardi: you were a stripper; the eerie, ghost-movie production has been done a LOT; she uses the same guest artists everyone else does; I still hate auto-tune. Y'see, here's what happened. Some powerful mogul in the music biz said, "We're gonna make Cardi B a big star irrespective of any particular or distinctive talent." And they did. Old Person, out.