SPECIAL POEM FOR OLDER FOLKS Sent in by James Reid... June 29, 2009
of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze..
The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know...........
Is what tells each one where to go!
April 25, 2009
I am a senior citizen, today I'm sixty five,
I have to watch my money, in order to survive.
I get up every morning shower, dress, and pee,
Fart a bit, take a shit, get down on one knee.
After saying a little prayer, to my kitchen I will walk,
Take my morning medicine, that tastes like fucking chalk.
Then I get my breakfast, bacon, eggs, and ham,
Coffee with no sugar, toast with diet jam.
Then I read the paper, the headlines are big and
Improved health care system, to take care of the old.
Somehow I don't believe them, improvements cost big bucks,
They never do what they say, that's why our health care sucks.
When you reach your golden years, and your hair is thin and gray,
Watch out for the government, they'll screw you in some way.
The Computer Swallowed Granny by: Just Me IDA
Submitted, August 22, 2007
The computer swallowed Granny. Yes, honestly its true!
She pressed 'control' and 'enter'
And disappeared from view.
It devoured her completely, The thought just makes me squirm.
She must have caught a virus Or been
eaten by a worm.
I've searched through the
recycle bin And files of every
kind; I've even used the
Internet, But nothing
did I find.
In desperation, I asked Jeeves
My searches to refine. The reply
from him was negative, Not a thing was found
inside your 'Inbox,'
My Granny you should see,
Please 'Copy,''Scan' and 'Paste' her
And send her back to me.
Makes Quite a Splash at his Reunion
By: Saralee Perel
Submitted, March 4, 2007
My husband, Bob, accepted an invitation to his high school reunion. He had
no stereotypic concerns about weight, financial status or hair loss. Or so I
thought. Until Sears delivered the weight set. “You look terrific,” I said
later, putting an ice pack on his aching lower back. Then I cleaned the sink
before the cat could lap up the Gray-Away gunk Bob had slathered on his
head, arms, chest and heaven-knows-why, around his . . . well, you know.
“You mean I look terrific for someone my age.” “No, honey. Well, yes.” “I
was a nerd in high school.” “I’m not sure weight-training will change that.”
“You mean I’m still a nerd?” “No, honey. Well"
By the day of his reunion,
he lost 15 pounds and had grown a beard. I’ve learned that all men, upon
attending reunions (or getting divorced) lift weights and grow beards. Now,
I know you won’t believe the following really happened, but I promise you it
The informal reunion was at a classmate’s house. Bob brought 3 cases of
soda. When we pulled up, he asked me to pile all 3 cases into his arms.
“It’s too heavy,” I said, but he thought he’d look unmanly if he brought
them in one at a time. I can still see him, trudging up the front steps with
the mega-tons of soda. With each step he slowed down. He wobbled a little to
the left and then to the right, sort of looking like Lucille Ball trying to
balance a gigantic fruit bowl on her head in a MGM slapstick musical
extravaganza. “I’ll help,” I said, but that was an unfortunate gesture on my
part. Because as he approached the last step, he turned to me and said, “No
thanks,” which resulted in him losing his balance. All 3 cases fell and
exploded on the top cement step, after which gallons of soda cascaded down
the stairs in a massive bubbling waterfall of fizz.
Somebody went to buy
more soda as we all met for a backyard barbeque. Bob lit a huge mound of
charcoal. It burned brightly – very brightly – too brightly. As a classmate
ran to put the top on the grill to squelch the inferno, Bob took this
opportunity for his pivotal manhood moment. Like a superhero, he dashed to
find a hose then raced with it to the flames. But he hadn’t taken the time
to notice that the hose was curled around the wrought-iron table that held
hot dogs, hamburgers and basically everything we were supposed to eat. All I
could think of to do was yell, “Bob! The hose!” but that didn’t do any good.
In a display of fearless youthful masculinity, he called out to everyone,
“I’ve got it!” I helplessly watched the hose tighten its grip around the
base of the table as Bob sprinted toward the fire, nozzle in hand. And in
ever-so-slow-motion, the table fell over, dumping food for 45 people – most
of which landed in the swimming pool.
I learned some important things that
day. 1. When everyone said to Bob, “You haven’t changed a bit,” they weren’t
talking about his looks. 2. It doesn’t matter if we’ve put on a few pounds
over the years. Who hasn’t? It doesn’t matter if we’ve become heads of
businesses or our hair is thinning. What matters is that we’re happy. 3. Hot
ON TURNING SIXTY
by Robert Levin
Submitted, January 15, 2007
Although it's brought me that much closer to transforming into worm food,
I've found that turning sixty is not without its compensations.
While it's true, for example, that my member isn't getting a proper supply
of blood anymore - and that I can no longer write my name in the sand and
must settle for my initials - I can still have lots of fun with it. Thanks
to a prostate gland the Museum of Humongous Prostate Glands has already put
in a bid for when I buy the farm, my urine stream now bifurcates at the exit
point. This means that I can whiz into the toilet and the adjacent bathtub
at the same time - which is a kick. My urologist says that while he can make
no promises, there's a good chance that in the not too distant future I'll
be capable of TRIfurcating. This will enable me to whiz into the toilet, the
bathtub AND the laundry basket simultaneously.
I can't wait.
And by making it possible to legitimately ignore questions that have always
annoyed the hell out of me ("Isn't it time you threw out those Smurf jars
with the petrified flecks of premixed peanut 'n' jelly down toward the
bottom?" is a persistent one that never fails to spill some really nasty
chemicals in my brain), my newly developed hearing loss has a terrific
upside as well. Not, to be sure, that its downside isn't just as major. I
mean, how many invitations to lunch have I blown? How many people have said,
"Let me buy you lunch," and I've said in reply, "But we still don't have Bin
Laden."? (As thorny as this problem is, I've managed to ease it somewhat by
saying, maybe a dozen times a day to people with whom I come into contact,
"Thanks, I'd love to." Though probably 500 of them have looked at me in a
very askance kind of way - and one, I'm not sure why exactly, punched me in
the stomach - I've gotten six lunches doing this that I would otherwise have
missed out on. Not to mention a free ticket to a Robert Goulet concert!)
But if the benefits and drawbacks of my hearing impairment more or less
cancel out each other, the short-term memory loss that's accompanied my
sexagenarianism has a plus side that actually outweighs its minus side. I'm
speaking, of course, of the guarantee it can afford me that a movie I'm
going to will be a good one. I'll notice, for instance, an ad for a movie
and tell a friend about it. The friend will advise me that I saw the movie
just a week ago. I'll ask him if I liked it and if he says, "Yeah, you
couldn't stop talking about it," I'll think, hey, how often does a movie
come with THAT kind of recommendation and I'll go immediately to see it. I'm
told that I've seen "Pearl Harbor" eight times now.
(I might add here that being strictly of the short-term variety, my memory
loss in no way affects my ability to remember the last time I had sex.)
But of the many compensatory rewards that turning sixty provides (and you'll
agree they are not inconsiderable) there's one that I value above all
others. Although I can still croak at a RELATIVELY early age I've been
spared the embarrassment of expiring at a TRAGICALLY early age.