I turned 60 today.
You know what they say, “60 is the new 40.” This just goes to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are incurable freaking imbeciles, because that’s a heaping pile of warm crap. (Although, that having been said, I’m approaching the age when staying regular is often an important health objective, so there’s that.)
Besides, even if it were true on some deeply esoteric ontological level, I seriously doubt that the 60-is-the-new-40 sentiment will win me as much as a single potential-sex-partner point with any eligible, voluptuous women under the chronological age of 40. And, if not, how the hell much is it really worth? Not much. Not much at all.
Furthermore, the way I feel now, I’m thinking that 60 is the new 80. Maybe 79, but that’s my final offer.
I don’t know when one’s “golden years” are supposed to begin, but I can take heart in the certainty that I’m not that old yet. I know this because nobody has given me my gold yet. I’m curious. Will it arrive in bullion, bars, coins, or stock in gold mining companies?
Please don’t tell me it’s a gold watch. I stopped wearing a watch when I started carrying a cell phone. A gold watch would be about as valuable to me a someone telling me that 60 is the new 40. I.e., not much at all. Just give me the gold, please.
The point is, my gold hasn’t arrived yet. I keep checking my mailbox, but it’s not there. Maybe the post office lost it. Or maybe that “golden years” nonsense is just more bullshit. I’ll bet there is a language that is almost, but not quite exactly like English in which “golden” is a synonym for “decrepitude.” Power-of-positive-thinking people are evidently fluent in that language.
By the way, does anyone know if 60 qualifies me for a career as a curmudgeon? If so, do I have to join a union to get that job? And what are the average starting salaries and benefits for curmudgeons? And does the job come with sick days or do I have to get sick on my own?
I’ve always believed that it’s a good idea to keep your options open. To that end, as an alternative, I’m also considering starting a career as a dirty old man. I’m sure that would be considerably more fun than being a curmudgeon. Unfortunately, it’s also more likely to get me arrested by the police, not to mention shunned by the very women whom I most want to get dirty with.
Hey, wait! I have an idea. Maybe I could be a part-time dirty old man, thereby reducing the risks of arrest and shunning compared to doing it full-time. I could then fill in the extra time by moonlighting as a curmudgeon. I’ve got to go check that out. Catch you later.
Categorised as: stuff and nonsense