Tag Archives: old age

Birth dazed

I hate my birthday. Not that there’s anything wrong with the date itself. I don’t share it with some famous person like Muhammad or Mel Brooks, or with an unhappy moment in history like the time the migrant caravan bombed Pearl Harbor. It’s not even because so many years have flown by since my original birthday, though it was slightly terrifying when my latest was the one Sir Paul McCartney wrote a tune about, and it wasn’t “When I’m 19, or “When I’m 28,” or “When I’m 35, 39, or even 49 or 59, FFS!”

No, the reason for this grump attack is that the birthday has suddenly become an indispensable form of ID, which compels me to state it, and thus be reminded of it, a lot more often than I’d like. Medical offices are the worst offenders. No matter why I’m calling, and lately I’ve been ringing up lots of docs about different issues, the voice on the other end always asks, “Date of birth?”

When I was a kid, I of course eagerly anticipated each DOB for the presents and cake. Later on I tried to ignore them, especially the milestones like the now-distant 30 and 40. Eventually, I grudgingly decided getting older is better than the alternative and made peace with the date. But I had to think about it only once a year.

Now, even if I called the doctor’s office five minutes before and I’m talking to the same person, they want my mm/dd/yyyy. And remember: the reason I’m calling in the first place is because my various faculties, faculty lunches, organs, pipes, pipe organs, Moogs, wellness plans, Marshall Plans, Marshall stacks, and other instruments of crepitude* are falling apart – and on top of that, they gotta remind me I’m older than God and dirt put together?

At least I’m still dealing with humans. The New Yorker has an amusing piece about the horde of robots trying to take our jobs, one of which was deep-sixed after trying to hug customers and calling out “Hello, gorgeous!” I think I can safely speak for every male member of our species in saying I do NOT EVER want a doc-bot to examine my prostate.


*The opposite of decrepitude. Right?

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Anti-social security, or “Ten things to know about getting old”

Dear Sir,*

We’ve received your application for Social Security. We welcome you to the ranks of the senior beneficiary retirement subgroup, or as some of our younger staff call it, “Geezer Gulch.”

Before we can start payments, we need you to answer just a few questions to be sure you’re eligible. After all, we wouldn’t want to eviscerate the millennials’ future accept more money than we’re entitled to, would we?

  1. How long have you had that white hair exploding out of your ears and nose?
  2. Are you binge-watching “The Golden Girls” on TV Land and thinking Blanche was actually pretty hot?
  3. Do you understand these song lyrics? “When Denny met Cass he gave her love bumps; Called John and Zal and that was the Mugwumps.”** If so, please explain them and define “Mugwumps” (Note: Calling us and singing over the phone are grounds for immediate, permanent loss of all benefits).
  4. Is your current bedtime earlier than your bedtime as a kid? Can you even remember that far back?
  5. Can you still put away the Rolling Rock, Canadian Club, Stoly, Moet, and Purple Jesus like you used to?
  6. If so, is your drinking just one more sad attempt to escape the emptiness and anguish of your wasted, humdrum life?
  7. Could you ever have been a contender? Or were you always a bum?
  8. Do you remember “dial-up,” “VCRs,” “cassette tapes,” “black-and-white TVs,” “leaded gas,” “the milkman,” “bi-partisanship,” “common courtesy,” and “common sense”?
  9. Is that really you in that rock festival video on YouTube, with hair down to your navel, a pink and green tie-dye shirt, and what seem to be no pants, jumping up and down on a car hood while screaming “WHIPPING POST”?
  10. Please estimate your annual Viagra intake. This won’t affect your benefits but it’ll sure make us feel better about our own TQ (tumescence quotient).

*We dug this form of address out of the archives because we know it’s what people your age are used to! See how dedicated we are?
**This is from “Creek Alley” by the Mamas and the Papas, who’d probably be the Great-Grandmamas and Grandpapas by now.