Ake's Pains debuted in the University of Akron Buchtelite in September of 1977. The school's reputation as an institute of higher learning has still not recovered. Ake's Pains returns after a brief 32 year hiatus. It's back, baby!

Monday, February 22, 2016

You Will Not Force Me To Retire (The Aging Chronicles – Part 2)

I am being aggressively recruited by a vile, evil, cult.  They are relentless in their efforts to brainwash me.  They send messages to my television, they tempt me with radio advertisements, they run full page ads in my newspaper.  They desire me so much, they even send me personal mailings which are so presumptuous that they include a membership card with my name and number already on it.

They seem to target old people, probably because they know that declining mental abilities make geezers more susceptible to their lies and tricks and more likely to join their abominable cult.  But me? I am not old, I’m really not, so I have no idea why this organization is even interested in me.

What is this repulsive group?  They go by the stealth, coded, name, AARP.  However, through extensive research, including use of the “dark web” I have been able to determine that their real name is the American Association of Retired People.

These bastards want me, but I am not interested in joining them at all.  I am not retired, nor do I plan to do so soon. Why do they want me and why do they want me to retire now?  These disgusting bastards want me to quit my job, come over to the dark side, and join with them into some type of “association of retired people”. 

These so-called “retired people” walk around aimlessly, like zombies, all day with huge smiles on their faces because they don’t have stressful jobs, they don’t have @$$h^!# bosses to deal with and they can do whatever the hell they want.  Sometimes I see these poor souls at the mall and it is so pathetic.

To this I say, “No! Hell no!  AARP just leave me the *%$&⃰⃰⃰⃰⃰⃰ alone!”

Yes, I know they say you don’t have to be retired to join the group, but of course that is just part of their evil, deceitful, plan.  Once you join, I know they will surround you with so called “happy retirees” who will introduce you to new activities such as bingo and shuffleboard.  In addition, the mailing I received promises me AARP (read SENIOR) discounts on groceries, dining, travel and shopping! (and you know what I think of senior discounts from my previous post) They also promise big discounts on healthcare insurance and prescription drugs.

So of course once they get you hooked on bingo and valium, you will naturally want to quit your job and join them.  And in addition, you won’t need a salary because you are now getting so many freaking discounts!  These bastards are intent on having me quit my job and becoming dependent on them.  I have no idea why they are so committed in forcing me to do this.  I suspect it may have something to do with Bernie Sanders.

There is no way I am old enough to join AARP! There is no way that I have grown old enough to retire.  No way, no way I tell you!

Okay, I must admit there are people I graduated with from high school who have recently, gulp, retired.  But that is irrelevant to this discussion.  These “retirees” will say they were able to quit their jobs because of generous government pensions or that they managed to save lots of money and invested it well.

This of course is hogwash.  The truth is they quit their jobs because they are lazy, slothful, bums.  Just lazy, lazy, people who don’t have a good work ethic.  I also suspect they are Bernie Sanders supporters.

You may think I’m overreacting but I assure you that I’m not.  I’ve heard alarming reports of “retired people” just sitting for hours holding on to a pole, with a line and hook attached to it, waiting for some unsuspecting fish to literally take the bait.  Others sit in the park and actually feed pigeons.  Please be aware these are just random birds, that these people have no connection with whatsoever.  After the pigeons are full and bloated, they fly away and crap on the cars of people who are hard at work, like these slackers should be.  In addition, sometimes these retired people have been known to buy and consume ice cream in the middle of the afternoon for no apparent reason!  How sick is that?

Because of all this lollygagging, these retired people are not attending long, super-productive, business meetings.  They are not developing complicated, multi-linked, macro-powered, spreadsheets, critical for our economic survival.  And these malcontents are not checking their messages every 15 minutes, they may not even respond to emails for days. For days! I ask you, do we really want this?

The latest AARP ploy is to try to tempt me with a free Weekend Duffle Bag.
Sorry, what I do on the weekend is my business!
  These guys never quit with their intrusiveness.  What I do on my weekend is also my own damn business and if I need a duffle bag to do it, I will use my own, which I paid for with the salary from my job!

The AARP is most definitely an evil cult that wants everyone to retire and join them.  And this is so hypocritical, since many, many, people actually are employed at the AARP – yeah, think about that!

Their latest propaganda letter says they want to welcome me and my family to AARP.  I say “Hell no” and you can shove your membership card and your weekend duffle bag right up your @$$.  I will retire when I’m ready to retire, you stupid bastards.

Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

I’m Not Getting Older – Don’t Even Mention It (The Aging Chronicles Part 1)

It was one of those, horrendous, milestone events.  The type which shakes you to your core and you remember forever, because it is so traumatic.

And it all started so pleasantly.  I met my good friend Michael for breakfast at, what used to be, my favorite restaurant.  We had just started perusing the menu, when Michael said:

“Hey Don, look, you qualify for their senior specials!”

I quickly lowered my menu and gave Michael my best “what chu talkin’ bout Willis” glare.

“See right here on back”, he said as he reached over and turned my menu around.

And there they were, six entrees discounted for those customers, not 65 and older, like most places. No, these discounts applied to people age 55 and older.

That’s right, some stupid sonavabitch in corporate marketing thought it would be a swell idea to start their senior discounts at a lower age than the competition.  What a stupid, stupid, sonavabitch.  He’s probably one of those “millennials” who drives a Prius.  I bet he doesn’t even wear a tie. What a horrible idea by this stupid sonavabitch restaurant.  I wanted to bolt out of the place right then.

I didn’t even look at these “special” dishes. Not that I was afraid I would actually want one, absolutely not.  I assumed that all of them came with a big glass of prune juice and I’m certainly not interested in that.

I am not going to order some “senior-discounted” meal because I am not “old” by any means or by any standard.  I am still a vibrant, virile, man; full of life and making a meaningful, relevant, impact on my world.  By no means do I need any help whatsoever paying for my £#>*ing breakfast!

I can’t image why the sonavabitch restaurant thinks I would need one of these geriatric specials.  Do they include stuff like creamed oatmeal to make it easier for geezers to chew and digest?  Well, that might give the old people less gas and I certainly don’t have that problem … okay forget I even talked about that.  Maybe the foods are high in fiber, because I’ve heard that elderly people have problems pooping.  I certainly don’t need that because I take fiber pills.  Oh yeah, I know many old people use Metamucil, but I don’t take it because I’m old.  I only use it because it helps certain health conditions that have built up over the many years … okay, forget I even mentioned that.

“Are you going to get one those specials?” Michael asked enthusiastically, not realizing he was really fizzing me off.

“No, I’m not”, I calmly replied. “Are you?” (said with a bit of irritation)

“Well unfortunately, I don’t qualify for the discount”, he said with just a touch of smugness and a smirk.

Now I’m really fizzed off.  I want to scream “Michael, shut your pancake hole about these d@%m specials. You stupid, stupid, sonavabitch.” But he’s my friend, so I let it go.

Fortunately, our perky, chicky-babe, waitress bounces over to take our order.  But after Michael orders, she turns to me and says excitedly:

“Sir, did you see our senior specials?!!!!!!!!!"

Thought, but not said: Yes, you cheerful bitch, thanks to that sonavabitch Michael. I know all about your stupid specials.

And “Sir”, really? Once the young hot chicks start calling you “sir” you have crossed a line that hurts you deeply.   I wanted to tell her that even though I am middle-aged, I could still be a stud muffin, like Sean Connery, for example.  Well maybe a younger Sean Connery, who was able to play James Bond and frolic with the “Bond Girls” into his 50’s.

I wanted to tell her that I was still capable of ringing her bell. Of course, I would need 60 minutes’ notice in order for my blue pill to kick in.  Obviously I don’t really need this drug, only old guys really need it.  I just use it for a little help. Wait, I don’t mean anything is actually that little. I’m just making sure, as the commercial says, it’s very beneficial for guys as they age …. okay, let’s forget I ever brought this up, err, I mean, mentioned it.

My fantasy was rudely interrupted by the waitress joyfully asking:

“Did you see our new Prune-tastic Platter?  It’s like a shrimp platter you get at a seafood place, only with prunes!  There are stewed prunes, dried prunes, pureed prunes, prune casserole and a prune muffin. You also get a large glass of prune juice to wash it all down!” (Prune juice! – I freakin’ knew it!) 

I looked at her incredulously and was at a loss for words.

She then continued, “Don’t worry about eating that many prunes. Since we added this to the menu, we’ve stocked the restrooms with 3-ply, super-soft, toilet paper.” Then lowering her voice to a whisper and leaning towards me she added, “Because some people who order this have hemorrhoid issues.”  Of course I do have hemorrhoid problems, but not because I’m old. It’s just from sitting on my butt in cushy office jobs for many, many, ye…. okay, forget I mentioned this also.

This breakfast had gone totally wrong.  The waitress is supposed to be flirting with me in hopes of getting a big tip.  I am supposed to flirt back, because that’s how this game is played.  But now, all the waitress cares about is making me poop and assuring that it is an enjoyable experience.  I now feel like I am 90 years old.

I said defiantly, “I will have the Atomic Bacon Blast with a side order of bacon and I will wash it all down with a couple of raw eggs. And I want my bacon, shaken, not stirred”.

I do this to prove to the chicky-babe that I have the arteries (among other things) of a much younger man.  Which of course I don’t. My doctor is treating me for high cholesterol, not because I’m old, but because that gunk just builds up in your arteries over an extended time … ugh .. forget I said anything about this too.

I was finally able to enjoy my breakfast, as I stuff my face with over a pound of delicious bacon.  I leave the waitress a huge tip to prove I didn’t need their insulting discount.  I proudly walk past the restroom and its soft, 3-ply paper, on the way out.  However, as I reach the parking lot I do experience some strong chest pains, but I think it may have just been gas. Maybe I should have ordered the creamed oatmeal after all.

Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book

Monday, February 1, 2016

Just Make Me A Sammich - Review by Midwest Book Review

Reviewer's Bookwatch: January 2016

James A. Cox, Editor-in-Chief

Midwest Book Review

278 Orchard Drive, Oregon, WI 53575

Clint's Bookshelf

Just Make Me A Sammich

Don Ake

Wojelay Publishing

9780998001807 $14.95 pbk / $8.69 Kindle www.amazon.com

Synopsis: Just Make Me A Sammich is a collection of humorous essays from a wild mind, Don Ake. He explores a wide variety of topics, finding the absurd in the simple things and hilarious perspectives on more complex topics. His warped sense of humor will repeatedly catch you off guard. Sometimes politically incorrect, sometimes a bit naughty, but always witty. It is literally laugh-out-loud funny, story after crazy story.

Critique: Just Make Me A Sammich: Absurd Observations from a wild mind is irreverent, unfettered, eyebrow-raising, yet always funny. The stories (some of which were originally popular blog posts) range from author Don Ake being sexually harassed (well, technically) by a female co-worker, to supporting his beloved daughter's decision to get married outside in the pouring rain even though he privately opposed the idea 100%, to a "pooh bear" analogy of the economic stimulus of 2009-2010, and much more. Don't take the tongue-in-cheek, sarcastic-parody-of-a-sexist-cliché title too seriously or literally; Just Make Me A Sammich is a book that both men and women will find hilarious!

Clint Travis