An old codger once said, “You don’t turn 60. You hunt it down and kill it, or Vice Versa!”

Young Sir, always eat all of your porridge.
Porridge! I never eat porridge, I said, as I ate my porridge. Oatmeal
maybe, porridge, Never! It’s gruel.

Young Gentleman, you may find girls and kissing of little interest
now, but soon.
Girls and kissing, I thought, while kissing Marcia, who was 12
and a grateful kisser, but chewed grape bubble gum, yuck. Juicy Fruit,
now Juicy Fruit and kissing go together, like Hoagy and Carmichael.

Young man, it is of my opinion that if you play your cards right
the World is your oyster!
Oysters, what do they have to do with the world, as I ate my Oysters
Rockefeller. No, not oysters or Rockefellers, but marbles. The Big
Blue marble, the ultimate shooter, for all the marbles.

Sir, beware the mid-life crisis!
Mid … life … What? Shit, I said as I stalled the Vette at the third and final stoplight. I pulled it to the curb and killed the engine. Not, unfortunately, with a gun. I am, after all, a liberal. So much for Route 66!

Be sure and take advantage of our senior discount.
Senior! Discount? Did I hear right? Where’s the camera?
Isn’t that Allen Funt, behind the potted palm?

Yes, I really used to like oatmeal, but now I am growing to rather like
porridge. It reminds me of my childhood in the orphanage, isn’t that Tiny …
Tim, as I stare into my spoon of gruel, and see swirling down deep within
the very beginnings of the Cosmos, and perhaps within the next spoon full, the very …

no, not endings. It’s only a number. Einstein is having good laugh somewhere. General Relativity indeed!

Only a number.