So my family has been blessed with youthful features.  We're lucky that way.  Some families are blessed with brains, other's great looks, and others, enlightenment; my family, however, we were only blessed with a youthful look.  Which, is okay, I won't kid you; especially since we're slow at learning things and so always lag behind in things like earnings and advancements.   I guess it in why nature gave us this youthful exterior so we wouldn't draw too much attention working besides younger people who keep advancing over us. 

Anyway, what I'm getting at here, is I am 57.  Ouch, it even hurts to say.  Don't look it.  Don't feel it-- wait, I do feel it:  since my prostate has swollen across my ass, I do feel 57.  And so, today I go to see the doctor and he looks at me and says, "You don't look 57."

And I says to him:  "That better be your finger."

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Nothing to see here folks, the Rapture has happened.  We've moved stuff to Patron. That's okay isn't? ...