I always liked Barbara Ehrenreich’s suggestion that Bush sic the AARP on Bin Laden. He’s over 50 and they seem to know the whereabouts of every single person on Earth north of that line, so it’s a natural.

Give in, it’s inevitable. Besides, what’s not to like about discount matinee movie tickets and a break on the Early Bird Special at Dennys??

Yeah. I went to the flicks on my 53rd a couple of months back and noticed that in two years I’ll get the senior citizen discount.

Brutal. I’m a life-long Blank Generation (”we can take it or leave it each time”) type and, having grown up with the two Johns (Lennon and Lydon) at their best, I regard serious cool as a birthright.

Ah hell, doesn’t mean I ever have to grow up. And in a couple of years I’ll save a few bucks at the flicks!

You go ahead and cling to your fading dreams of youth. I’m gonna go the whole Abe Simpson route. Crank letters to the editor (wait, I’ve been doing that for 30 years…), harassing elderly TV stars, yelling at clouds…you know. The Good Life.

You go ahead and cling to your fading dreams of youth.

Dr. Evil: “There’s nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster.”

And, hellyes, Crusty Old Man will go with Sloth & Isolation quite nicely, thank you.

In a direct response to advertising on the homepage (Demo 18-49 YO male) I must say that Joe Bageant’s “Deer Hunting With Jesus” is a great read about Southern hostility and humanity.

I grew up right down the road from Winchester and ate at the Royal Lunch more times than I can count. The people he describes were my friends’ fathers.

Buy the book. You won’t regret it.

Cheer up. At this point in my life I feel *really* sorry for the twenty somethings, who are still going to be here when the ecosystem totally collapses and plague and water shortages and rising ocean levels and resource wars destroy civilization.

What I’ve been recommending to my stepdaughter, nieces and nephews is a career at NASA. That way, they’ll have a shot to be first in line to escape when the time comes.

I’ve been getting those AARP things in the mail for a while now. I’m waiting for the one that gives me the discounts on the pants with the waistline that comes up to my sternum, and the Early Bird special at Denny’s. Then it’s just a matter of deciding whether I’m a coot or a geezer. Excuse me–I think I heard some kids on my lawn.

video record of the last hours of the little blue planet and the last rocket off it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v…..&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v…..p;feature=

When I am an old woman,
I shall wear purple – -
With a red hat which doesn’t go,
and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandles,
And say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
and gobble up samples in shops
and press alarm bells
and run with my stick along public railings,
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people’s gardens
and learn to spit!

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at ago,
or only bread and pickles for a week,
and hoard pens and pencils
and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
and pay our rent
and not swear in the street,
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner
and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old,
And start to wear purple!

–Jenny Joseph

I received that letter ^%&*&$^ years ago. It is one of those events that forever changes (and scars) your self-image. It’s like the first time a teenager calls you “Sir.” Last week I had another. I stopped at an airport McDonald’s for a drink while on a business trip, and the 16 year old cashier gave me too much change. When I mentioned it, she said: “No, the senior citizen drinks are only 84 cents.”

After an initial impulse to throw the extra change in her face, I had this image of my sitting all afternoon in a MdD’s nursing my 84 cent coffee.

(OT, have you noticed that the “cent symbol” has disappeared, another victim of the falling dollar.)

Glad I didn’t read this yesterday on my 54th birthday or I would have written something really snotty (in an old-guy way).

I got the AARP invite years ago. Joined for one year and then dropped out. AARP membership feels like belonging to the world’s largest and most insistent marketing group. I’m still one year away from the official AARP discount age, but if anyone asks, I’m just going to lie to get it. Fuck youth.

i like to keep in mind that chrissie hynde is two years older than me; and pat benatar and cyndi lauper are the same age — and all three are still out there rocking..

fuck the aarp and its endless marketing ventures.

You forgot, the first time time your optometrist prescribes bifocals.
Got my draft notice in ‘68, was Dear Johned while in Vietnam in ‘71, prescribed bifocals in the Eighties, invited to join the AARP ten years ago and I’m summoned to join a jury as regular as clockwork.
Do I get a t-shirt?

(OT, have you noticed that the “cent symbol” has disappeared, another victim of the falling dollar.)

¢¢ It has NOT disappeared. It’s just harder to find. Try ALT 155. Just my 2¢.

If you buncha old whiners think I’m giving in, forget it. Not for 84¢ and not for cheap panckes or weird pants. I can tear up an AARP letter faster than Fenway can lose control of his bladder….

Husband and I went to the movies recently. He said to the box office cashier, “2 for Indiana Jones.” [Yes, the movie sucked. Don’t waste your money.] Cashier asked, “2 adults?” He said, “Well, yeah” with a “duh” inflection. Did she think we were students? Later we realized she was asking if we wanted the senior discount. He’s 53, I’m 51. (I blamed it on his gray hair.) A friend said I must embrace this. Hell, no.

I just “turned” (as George Carlin would’ve said) FIFTY-FOUR last April, and I’ve been gradually graying since my thirties.

So I’m at the local Chinese food takeout last weekend, and while fumbling through my bills, noticed I didn’t have any fives… I’d given them to my kids earlier in the week during HS finals for lunch ‘n’ snacks.

“Heh. Little stinkers took my last fives.”

“Oh, your grandchildren?”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“Your grandchildren, they took your last fives, yes?”

“You SO did NOT say that just now.”

“Your children, then?”

“Yeah, they’re still in high school.”

“Ah.”

*****

The kids ‘n’ the Missus had a major giggle over that exchange.

Pass the Geritol ‘n’ bran flakes. Shit. (

And another thing….

In all of the other higher primates, it’s the SILVERBACKs that get the cool chicks.

Fuck hair coloring, I’m graying and lovin’ it. )

Way back when, only men got draft notices (I got one. Who knew that orthodontics was a draft deferment even after most deferments had been ended?) because–well–only men HAD to register for the Selective Service System. By law.

Look at all the progress we’ve made since then in terms of legalized gender discrimination, eh?

Accept it, man, accept it. The AARP rate is cheaper than the government/corporate rate at most hotels and car rental counters.

Not that I would have any personal experience with that, of course.

You’re going to have this seniority thing going for a long time, and you have to learn to use it. The “sir” thing is part of it. It’s taken me years to get past the reflex response — “Don’t call me ’sir,’ I work for a living” — and realize that if someone else is giving me the ’sir’ treatment, it defines a relationship where I might just have a little leeway.

Not that I would ever abuse it, of course.

I’m almost 412 years old and I still wont join AARP.

I’m 50 in 2 weeks, and just starting to gray (white actually, which is what blonde apparently turns into), and I’ll be DAMNED if I am going to be forced into spending the rest of my life getting dye jobs at the salon. To paraphrase, nothing is quite as pathetic as an 80 year old who still dyes her hair jet black. That is not the road I will take; gray/white and proud of it.

Also, I must add that I had always assumed that all Tboggians were hip 20 to 30 year olds and I was the old loaf of bread in the cabinet.

Yeah, the bastards started hounding me when I was still in my late 40’s! And I figger that if my liberal 74 year old mother dumped them with great fanfare after they endorsed Bush’s abomination RE: Social Security Part D, there isn’t any reason for me to join.

Hell, I can’t afford to go out to eat or to a movie anyway, discounts or no…

The AARP sometimes jumps the gun. My wife is in her mid 40s (she says “early 40s”) and she just got the dreaded “letter” (omnious organ music). I, on the other hand, am 49 and still haven’t heard word one from them. heh heh.

And yeah, I’ve skipped the gray and am going straight to white hair.

Take the whole pill, dude; relax.
My blond hair is now white, I’ve had a stroke, and yet I can still scare people with how animated and angry I can get (thank you for something Georgie Bush). Plus, go to the gym regularly and young punks will be surprised at how quickly you can slap them when they say something stoopid.
And, totally sans shame, I trot out any damn card from my wallet that saves money at hotels and/’or restaurants.

Ah, so that’s why I enjoy this blog so much! It’s the only one where I’m not 30 years older than everybody else.

For the record I turn 56 next Tuesday. I got my first AARP letter on my 50th birthday. I haven’t joined but they’ve never given up. I wonder if maybe I should. Discounts are good and I’m super at recycling mail I don’t want…

MKK

Those bastards offered me a card when I was 35. I signed up for it, giving all my correct info, and they sent me a card. I had assumed they would simply chuckle and send my check back, but… well, there you have it. My membership will be up for renewal in July, but I think I’ll let it lapse.

Doc, don’t get bent out of shape over the grandkids at 54. It’s pretty normal to be a grandparent at 54. The lady who used to live across the street from me was most likely a great grandmother by the time she turned 50. Being queer, I don’t have to worry about that; I just vote yes on every school referendum so that I’m not surrounded by stupid kids in my old age.

I accomplished a pre-emptive attack on my 54th birthday blues this year by buying a scooter. I instantly turned into a very portly, bald, and silver haired 14 year old. Best mid-life crisis purchase ever, and saves me over $100/mo in gas.

Hubby and I have been pitching the AARP mailings ever since they first started coming, shortly before each of our 50th b-days. I’m going to have to ask him if he’ll start asking for senior discounts when he hits 55 later this year. That should be entertaining.

Tbogg, enjoy your last few days of 40-something.

I wouldn’t take it too personally. The AARP has been sending me stuff since at least my late 30s (they apparently don’t seem to make a distinction between “retired” and “has-been.”

They sent me the first mailing when I was 48.

I’m two weeks older than bin Lden, so yes, Michael Harrington, I’m sure they know where he is!

The reason I won’t join AARP [and I’m WAY within their age group] is the lobbying crap they used their members’ money for back in the “Medicare Drug Coverage” days: willing to sell out the under-50 portion of the population so the Greedy Geezers could have yet something else funded by the exceedingly regressive social security tax.