I Am Raising Cane Over This! (The Aging Chronicles – Part 4)

“Soon I'll be 60 years old
My daddy got 61”

“7 Years” is the worst song that has ever been written and Lukas Graham should shut his singing pie-hole (an explanation follows at the end of this post)

BUT FIRST – VERY ALARMING NEWS!

By now you have seen the media reports about a recent “scandalous-type” purchase I was purported to have made.  TMZ, Gawker, Entertainment Tonight, Perez Hilton and my nosy neighbor across the street, are all blasting the news across the entire Internet, including Facebook.

I find this accusation ridiculous and unwarranted, because the purchase in question is not for a hooker, opioids, videos or even HGH, but for a cane.  Of course this is ludicrous, because there is no possible way I am close to being old enough to need such an elderly-type device.

The "alleged device"

I would like to officially issue a denial to these salacious rumors, but that is difficult to do since TMZ has somehow obtained an invoice with my name on it from a company called “Fashionable Canes” in Largo, Florida.  This has to be a forgery. Though I am tempted to claim this cane was for my wife, the Peyton Manning defense, I won’t because if my wife found out,  I might have to call medical specialists to extract the cane from where it was forcibly lodged and I could end up needing a walker instead of just a cane.

Now you and the entire world may be laughing at me, but I assure you that the cane, if there really is one, is only needed because of a medical condition that flares up very infrequently. Let me be clear, even though this ailment is more prevalent in geezers, this does not mean I am old, getting old, or even feeling older.  No, this medical condition is just causing more pain to me now for some mysterious, unknown reason, totally unrelated to my age.

I repeat, it is not due to me being old.  The condition is hereditary.  This is all my ancestors fault.  They had the same disorder, but they were highly irresponsible and negligent in dealing with it. Those bastards then passed it on down to me and now I have to deal with it by allegedly buying a £#!êing cane! 

   

If I did have to purchase a cane, it would upset me greatly and be a major blow to my fragile, male, ego.  It is darn difficult to appear macho, vibrant and relevant, when you require a stick to remain standing upright.   Fortunately, this purported cane has not been used yet, because my ailment has not returned since the alleged purchase.  It may be here, just in case the illness ever returns, and of course that is highly unlikely since it is usually prevalent in old people and I am certainly not that old.

I am sure these scandalous reports come as a shock to my many young, hot, female fans, of which there are legions around the world.  I need to assure them that my medical condition only constrains me when I am in the vertical position and in no way limits my ability to perform horizontally.  Let me also say that my cane, if it exists, is long and stiff, just like my ….. well you get the idea.  Fortunately for me, the cane, unlike other things, does not need a 60-minute, blue-pill, notice to achieve functionality.

I may no longer be macho, but the rumored cane is distinguished and fashionable.  I mean it did allegedly come from a place called Fashionable Canes, didn’t it?  So if the women don’t find you functional, they should at least find you fashionable (tip of the hat to Red Green).

I would also like issue a warning to all you insensitive young whippersnappers out there.  I am extremely sensitive about having to use this alleged cane in public. If you see me using this device, I strongly suggest against making any mocking-type comments.   I swear, you may be able to outrun me, but I have a long reach and if you make the mistake of getting within literal striking distance, I will take this cane and smack your £#!êing ankle so hard that you won’t be able to walk, without, without …… uh …. without using a cane, yourself!  And if you need a recommendation, I may or may not know of a good cane company.  If you happen to use the word “cripple”, I will take out both your ankles Tony Soprano style.

Of course, if I have to defend my honor in this totally justified manner, I will no doubt fall over and unlike a Weeble, I will not be able to get back up.  This would be extremely embarrassing, so if you happen to see me lying on the ground next to a younger guy who is clutching his ankle and crying out in pain, you will know what has taken place.  I would ask that you quickly help me up because I will need to leave the scene before the authorities arrive, which will be a challenge since I can’t run away, but will be forced to hobble away as fast as I can using a gosh darn cane.  And rest assured, I will shake my fist at you as I shuffle away, sonny boy.

You may think I’m getting cranky, but I’m not.  Only old people get cranky, so I am obviously not cranky, since I am not that old.  I am merely just very upset.  Upset, not cranky, got it?

This concludes my response to these nasty, offensive, salacious, false, unsubstantiated, malicious, untrue, fabricated, fictional, made-up, unproven, deceitful, rumors and lies.  Please carry on with your normal lives and try not to let these awful reports about me disturb you or ruin your day.

Song Explanation

“Soon I'll be 60 years old
My daddy got 61”

This song creeps me out every time I hear it because in a couple years I will be 60 years old and my father died at age 61.  No need to remind me of this every time I turn on the radio Lukas Graham, you stupid sonavabitch.

This concludes The Aging Chronicles. I had much more to write on this, but for some reason I can’t remember any more of it.  All this writing has made me very tired, I will be taking a nap now.  

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

  

This Retirement Community Is Rotten (The Aging Chronicles – Part 3)

When you start having to check the “55-64” box when asked for your age, you know your life is changing. That box may as well be labeled “irrelevant”. You are no longer hot and attractive to advertisers, but you are not yet a “senior citizen” and gullible enough to be taken advantage of by charlatans.  Still, you do begin to get mailings for “age-appropriate” products.

However, some of these are just totally stupid.  I just received one for a place called “Sunset Valley”, which I assume is a retirement community. Not that I’m old enough to retire, of course, but I do like to watch sunsets.  So even though the sunsets may be difficult to see from the valley, I decided to check out the brochure.  Just for fun, of course.

They claim it is a beautiful, park-like, setting which provides quiet, peaceful, surroundings for when family and friends come to visit.  That’s nice, but what about me, what about my needs?  Butterflies and trees are fine, but I don’t plan on being still and quiet all the time.  Am I supposed to bury my emotions?

They strangely do not mention any activities designed for me. Where are the walking paths, shuffleboards and tennis courts?  Yes, I’m getting older, but I just don’t want to lie around all day, do I?

They promote it as a great “resting place”. Sure, I’m looking forward to taking some long naps, but then I want rise up and do stuff.  And they show no photos of the residents having fun at cookouts and parties.  I mean the place just isn’t very lively, in fact it looks kind of dead.

It says plots in good locations are still available.  Well I would like one overlooking the lake, but not too close to the lilacs due to my allergies.  I

wouldn’t want to startle anyone if I suddenly started sneezing unexpectedly.  It is also confusing that they don’t list the size of their plots in square feet, but in cubic inches. I haven’t done the math, but these plots seem to be a bit small.  I don’t think I want to be confined in that limited of space, that might make me a little stiff. 

There are just too many things wrong with Sunset Valley for me to consider “spending the rest of my days” there.  I may just be thinking outside the box, but they need to add some activities for the residents to breathe some new life into the place.

Dental Problems - Crown Me

And for some unknown reason, I am suddenly having more problems with my teeth.  Of course this has nothing to do with me getting older, it is totally random, without any age-related explanation whatsoever.  I think my teeth just to it step it up and become tougher.

Recently one of these wimpy teeth needed a crown.  I have told my wife for years that I deserved a crown, but I didn’t mean one this small.  During the procedure, my dentist was struggling to reach my molar and made the most ridiculous statement ever.  He said “I wish your mouth was bigger”.

Of course he had to stop, when I started to laugh uncontrollably.

“Did I say something funny?” he asked. 

“You have to be the only person on the planet that wants me to have a bigger mouth”, I explained.  “Even the people who like me a lot, don’t wish for that!”

So there is at least one person in the world that doesn’t think I’m a big mouth. Okay, so only one person.  I’ll take it.

During the preparation for the crown, the hot, young, dental assistant gave me a Lidocaine shot to numb that side of my mouth.  I wanted to impress her with my hipness, so out of the other side of my mouth I mumbled,

“I can’t feel my face when I’m with you, but I love it, but I love it”

Now I can’t say she bitch-slapped me, because she is a lady. So I guess she lady-slapped me.  She’s smart too, didn’t slap me on the numb side either.  Got me on the side where I could still feel pain -  lots of pain.

Guess I shouldn’t have winked after I said that ……

No Hearing Problems Though

I get mailings for hearing aids, which is stupid since I am not old and have outstanding hearing.  There are several old people in my neighborhood, which of course does not include me, so there is a hearing aid sales guy who often comes around driving his mobile-testing van.

The neighbors tell me that he is very aggressive in his approach, ringing the doorbell and banging on the door until somebody answers.  Well this guy must realize that I am a still a virile, vibrant, strapping, man with excellent hearing, because even though I’ve seen his van parked by my house numerous times, he has never once come to my door!

So I repeat, I am not getting old.  No way, no how.

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