Here's another fun fact about aging nobody ever mentioned

Yup, the fun never ends once you start cashing in on those senior's discounts. To be sure, there are benefits... saving 10% on geezer needs every Thursday at Shoppers Drug Mart is a perfect example. They kick in the senior's discount at age 55, so I've even got the Farm Manager shopping there. On the other hand, the older you get, the harder it is to live in denial. Quite aside from all sorts of nasty shit sneaking up on you after a lifetime of imagining you'll be eighteen forever, for which Alice Cooper should finally take at least a slight smidgeon of responsibility, you inevitably succumb to the old-age markers that plague even those insufferable moralizers and virtue-signalers who never smoked or drank or snorted anything, but were equally shocked when they weren't waking up with a stiffy every morning! Ya, shit happens, and the shit don't ever really get much happier. Another symptom nobody ever mentioned is I'm making way more drool now than ever before. In fact, a certified dental hygenist mentioned that just last week. Not that I needed a professional opinion. This morning I was doing a few laps at the dog park with Bruno. A dog park regular pulls in with his absolutely gorgeous black-and-tan mastif. His girl has cropped ears and a full tail. My boy has a cropped tail and full flopply ears. In true mastif fashion, they completely ignore one another, as well as every other dog and human other than their masters. I'm stopping to give that pretty girl a rub, and, wouldn't you know it, I slobber all over her. Well, at least it didn't happen at the counter in the post office or the check-out at the liquor store! Her dad, a seasoned mastif owner, took it in stride, as well he should - I'd guess he's got a good ten years on me. As I'm apologizing to the dog he says, don't worry about it, she'll drool back on you soon enough. Then we did a lap comparing notes on how much mastif drool had damaged our dog transporters. Oh ya, these dogs just wreck your car! He kinda had a point. My ten year old Toyota has congealed Bruno slobber caked on the outside of the back doors, and the back seat is pretty much rotted out. On the other hand, his new 600 horsepower Audi R8 didn't show any sign at all of mastif slobber on the back doors, so probably he was just humouring me. And that's a happy thing. Ya, it's bullshit, but it's kind, life-affirming bullshit! As I'm barreling down the home stretch of life's all-too-short highway, that's the kind I'm looking for. That's why I'm 100% against a single further taxpayer penny going to the CBC!

Never surrender

I think it starts when you hit 60. That’s a hard number. Deep inside everybody “celebrating” their 60th, is a 16 year old wondering what the fuck happened. And it only gets worse from there. There’s a lot of societal pressure to see yourself as “old,” a “senior citizen,” etc. They lure you in with so-called “senior’s discounts.” Who doesn’t want to save five bucks on a haircut? Succumb to that, and you’ve embraced the senior citizen identity. Which I have, to be perfectly honest. I do like to save five bucks on a haircut… and it pays to visit Shoppers Drug Mart on seniors day. But there is a dark side to getting old. You get old. For the first time in your life you’re following your bowel movements the way you once followed your favorite sports teams. Go Leafs go! Then there’s the testosterone thing. Your testosterone factory has pretty much shut down by the time you’re a pensioner. There’s a lot of guys who are in denial about that. They take pills for that “special moment.” Ya right. You wake up every morning of your life with a boner, and now you have to take a pill? That doesn’t make a “special moment” for anyone who remembers their youth. But we want to delude ourselves with the fantasy that we still “have it.” While it’s inevitable that one make allowances for the passage of time, “old age” catches up to you sooner or later if you live long enough. That in itself is a cause for celebration! I’ve already passed the life expectancy I had at birth… party like it’s 1955! Nobody actually celebrates old people in our culture. My understanding of Indigenous societies is they revere and respect their elders. They’re way ahead of us in that department. In our society, elders are viewed more as a profit centre for nursing homes and pharmaceutical companies. But here’s my point; just because you’re old, doesn’t mean you have to act like it. My role model in that respect is my dear father. When we first arrived at Falling Downs, nearly twenty years ago, he was well into his seventies. We’d invited Mom and Dad up for an al fresco luncheon. They brought the fluffy white buns from Bunsmaster in the city, and we provided the cold cuts. I glance out the kitchen window while I’m putting things together, and there’s Dad, a good thirty feet up a pine tree, hacking away with a pruning saw because some of those branches might eventually impede the power line. You can’t stop the clock, and you ain’t gonna get younger no matter what pill you take. But you can keep climbing trees and living your life. That’s my shout-out to Dad this father’s day.

How is underwear not "essential?"

Great news from the front lines of the pandemic! I was heading into town to pick up my blood pressure meds, and the CBC news was on the radio. New covid cases at their lowest since last September! The presenter sounded almost euphoric.

Shoppers Drug Mart has been open for the duration. That makes sense. People need their meds. While you're in the store you can pick up a few things that may not be quite as life-or-death as your meds. Essentials like lip gloss, eyeliner, nail polish. That makes sense too. After all, you're blowing your germs around the place anyway, so what difference could it possibly make?

With so much good covid news I thought I'd swing by Giant Tiger to see if they were still curbside pickup. Since that a-hole hedge-fund manager in Florida killed Sears Canada, Giant Tiger's been my go-to spot for socks and underwear. That last three-pack of Fruit of the Looms I bought before covid are beyond threadbare, to the point where, even if they were fresh out of the wash, their disgraceful appearance would shame the family name for years to come were I to suffer an unexpected trip to the hospital.

There's people going in and out! Alrighty! New undies at last!

I mask up and head in with a bounce in my step... and you wouldn't friggin' believe it; they've blocked off the entire store with yellow caution tape except half a dozen food aisles at the back. 

To my way of thinking, undershorts are every bit as essential as eyeliner and nail-polish. In fact, reasonable people will agree underpants are every bit  as important as shoes. Just like shoes keep dogshit off your feet, shorts keep skid-marks off your Levis. You're already in the store. If you grab some tinned tuna and a box of cereal, how will anyone be put at increased risk if you pick up a three-pack of Fruit of the Looms on your way out?

The shoe stores have been closed too!

Strikes me as ridiculous. But, I'm not an expert, so what do I know...

Speaking of experts, I guess now that our numbers are at record lows those of us who've spent the past year denigrating them owe them an apology.

I'm sorry, experts.

But I do wonder about one thing. This record low number of new cases once again happens to happily coincide with a record low number of tests. In January daily testing peaked at over 75,000 daily. Yesterday Ontario did barely 15,000.

Gee, who would've expected case numbers to go down when you do 80% less testing?

If your underpants zone is perpetually damp, you're probably ready for adult diapers

Ya, hate to be the one to break it to you, but that's where you're heading.

Me too.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Hell, we've lived through the smug glances of those Shopper's Drug Mart check-out clerks since we bought our first tube of K-gel, haven't we?

And the condoms.

And the 'roid ointments.

So what's the big deal with the adult diapers?