06-04-2021, 12:32 PM
When asked to describe my 'good old days', I replied,
'When I wasn't old, and I wasn't good' !
There are four stages of old age:
You forget names.
Then you forget faces.
Next, you forget to zip up.
And finally, you forget to zip down.
You know you’re getting older when you have a party
and the neighbors don’t realize it.
If my body were a car, I would trade it for a newer model.
Every time I cough, sputter, or sneeze, my radiant leaks
and my exhaust backfires.
When you’re 20 and you drop something, you pick it up.
When you’re 80 and you drop something,
you decide you don’t need it anymore.
You know you’re getting old when you can’t walk past a bathroom without thinking,
“I may as well pee while I’m here…”
The older I get,
the earlier it gets late.
You find yourself listening to talk radio.
You daughter says she got pierced and you look at her ears.
The pattern on your shorts and couch match.
You fondly remember your powder blue leisure suit.
You think Tragically Hip is when a middle-aged man gets a new sports car, hair piece,
and a 20 year old girlfriend.
You criticize the kids of today for their satanic suicide-inducing music,
forgetting that you rocked to Alice Cooper and Black Sabbath.
You call the police on a noisy party next door instead of grabbing beer and joining it.
You turn down free tickets to a rock concert because you have to work the next day.
When grass is something that you cut, not cultivate.
When jogging is something you do to your memory.
Getting a little action means your prune juice is working.
All the cars behind you flash their headlights.
You remember the "Rolling Stones" as a rock group not a corporation.
You bought your first car for the same price you paid for your son's new running shoes.
You actually ASK for your father's advice.
You know how to operate a fax machine.
When someone mentions TWEETING you picture birds singing.
'When I wasn't old, and I wasn't good' !
There are four stages of old age:
You forget names.
Then you forget faces.
Next, you forget to zip up.
And finally, you forget to zip down.
You know you’re getting older when you have a party
and the neighbors don’t realize it.
If my body were a car, I would trade it for a newer model.
Every time I cough, sputter, or sneeze, my radiant leaks
and my exhaust backfires.
When you’re 20 and you drop something, you pick it up.
When you’re 80 and you drop something,
you decide you don’t need it anymore.
You know you’re getting old when you can’t walk past a bathroom without thinking,
“I may as well pee while I’m here…”
The older I get,
the earlier it gets late.
You find yourself listening to talk radio.
You daughter says she got pierced and you look at her ears.
The pattern on your shorts and couch match.
You fondly remember your powder blue leisure suit.
You think Tragically Hip is when a middle-aged man gets a new sports car, hair piece,
and a 20 year old girlfriend.
You criticize the kids of today for their satanic suicide-inducing music,
forgetting that you rocked to Alice Cooper and Black Sabbath.
You call the police on a noisy party next door instead of grabbing beer and joining it.
You turn down free tickets to a rock concert because you have to work the next day.
When grass is something that you cut, not cultivate.
When jogging is something you do to your memory.
Getting a little action means your prune juice is working.
All the cars behind you flash their headlights.
You remember the "Rolling Stones" as a rock group not a corporation.
You bought your first car for the same price you paid for your son's new running shoes.
You actually ASK for your father's advice.
You know how to operate a fax machine.
When someone mentions TWEETING you picture birds singing.
Semper Fidelis
![[Image: SyAa0qj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/SyAa0qj.png)
USMC
![[Image: SyAa0qj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/SyAa0qj.png)
USMC
Nemo me impune lacessit

