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This week: Old people -- you gotta love'm! Edited by: Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ  
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I have been pondering about life's little pauses. Those are the things that remind us that we are getting closer to the time in life when we can get even with our children. Let's take a look...
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Hello, folks, welcome to another edition of the Comedy Newsletter. Aging has its moments, especially if it's happening to you, that make each day one to find humor. I am always faced with this reality whenever I've had a recent visit with Web-Mom.
She is up there in age, being eighty-five and all, yet, she still manages to get attention from whomever crosses her path. She knows everything, has done everything, although now, she can't remember what it was she did.  But, she's sure she did it and can comment about it with conviction. When she feels free to talk about sex and in a loud voice, usually in a crowded room, it makes me cringe. I mean I don't even want to imagine that she had to have sex, to have me. But, that's just one of the things she, as an old person, can get away with when she is let out into the public forum.
We took her to a restaurant she really enjoys, as part of her Mother's Day gift. She had a difficult time climbing into our SUV, and I forgot the little step-stool back at home. Web-Son managed to get her into the car, so all was well. However, when we left the restaurant and felt sure a repeat process by Web-Son to get her into the car would work, this time it didn't.
Suddenly, that step-up got higher. WS had no luck trying to juggle her doggy-bag and jiggle her hiney into the seat, so Web-Lock went to the rescue. He and I both have bad backs, so I was hoping he would get through the task without a painful spasm. He took a deep breath and tried the old heave-ho. (No disrespect with that "ho" word. heave-ho is a common expression--from the old days.)  Try as he did, the little old lady wouldn't budge.
"Web-Mom, why are you having a problem getting back into the car. You did fine with just Web-Son's help before we got here?"
"Well, I'm full, now. It's a little harder to get acrobatic on a full belly. Besides, now my knee is starting to bother me and my shoulder, too. There aren't too many working parts, you know, when you get to be my age. "
When I was sure she was going to keep herself firmly in her out-of-car position, I offered to jump into the circus act. I could see that WL was trying to lift her without hurting her shoulders and knees, but she wouldn't budge. He proceeded to grip her by the hips with a tight hold, like he was the "jaws of life," to get good traction, but her jacket was made with slippery fabric and his hands slipped toward the ribs.
I can still picture the big smile on WM's face when that happened. She told him she hadn't been hugged like that for years!
That maneuver didn't work either; the getting her into the car, part, that is. The rib hug? I think that will remain-- priceless.
I got a brilliant idea at that point. I thought of the old ten-finger lift. Boy, that takes me back to my childhood. We always boosted one another with our hands when we needed to climb a wall to shag a ball.
I went over to her and held my clamped fingers up to the height of a step-stool. She was hesitant at first, then stepped on my hands with an air of royalty. I was praying, "Oh, God, please don't let my hands or back fail me now."
Right then and there, she decided to ask a question. WL was trying to support her balance and add a little more lift to her stubborn body. Meanwhile, I'm sweating, praying and hoping my hands hold-up for the final push. Shazammm! She got into the seat. WL told WS to tie her down with the seatbelt. We left the parking lot amid some stares, chuckles and jaw drops. In the next breath, she dared to say she wanted to go shopping for a few things, on the way home.
"WM, just give me the list and I'll get the things you need. You are not leaving this car until we get you home."
"Well I don't want to put anybody out or anything. I have a shopping basket to lean on, so I'm safe in a store."
"Oh, don't worry about that, we don't want to have to put you through another difficult experience, of getting you back into the car. We would love to shop for you.  In fact, WS will stay in the car with you to keep you tethered--erh, I mean, company."
Well, folks, we managed to get her home. She found it easy to slide out of the car and head up the sidewalk with her super-duper walker. 
Following that incident, WL and I started pondering getting older. We talked about having to buy an old people's car, when we get on in years. You know those cars, don't you? They are lined-up in grocery parking lots, (or misaligned, more likely) wearing dings, with key scratches, and, they are all silver colored.
While you prepare to enter the world of fossildom, you should keep these signs in mind and head them off at the pass.
You know you're getting old when you start getting some of these symptoms:
Brain Farts--going to the kitchen three or more times but forgetting what you went there to get. It also applies to driving. You forget where you are going, or, in extreme cases, thought somebody else was driving.
Brain Worms--you can't get the music out of your mind until it drives you out of your mind. And then you finally remember to turn off the radio.
Brain Pause--an extra long brain fart.
Now that you have an idea of what to watch out for in the coming years, you can take some proactive steps to help avoid some of it.
Make a list! Write little notes on your hands, before you head to the kitchen or other room you feel the need to visit. This works great if you keep the notes tiny and on the inside of your hands, so others can't see them.
In the case of driving, have a GPS instrument installed, while you're still interested in learning how to use it. You know how difficult it was for older relatives to learn how to program a VCR, forget the digital stuff!
Put your radio on a timer so it shuts off before you start absorbing all the music or chatter subconsciously in your sleep.
Furthermore:
You really know you're on your way to getting old and should start collecting pens for notes when some of these signs appear:
You're holding your books at arms length to read them and have already ordered them in large print.
You're a guy who mistakes self-rising flour for cornstarch, when there is a little jock-itch problem.
You're a guy who actually thinks that self-rising flour will take care of the other problem that can happen in the aging process.
Well, folks, I hope this has been informative to you as you look down the road to getting really old. If you're already there, now's the time to get even with your kids for all of the grief they've given you, between the ages of fourteen and twenty!
It's a wrap for this edition of the Comedy Newsletter, folks.
Until next time--laugh hard, laugh often!
Ta,
Web~Witch
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billwilcox
WW,
I knew a mortician once. Nice enough fella, I guess. We played cards together for many years, poker actually, but he never talked much about what he did at work. The only problem I ever had with him was his dead-pan humor and the fact that I could never tell when he was bluffing.
-W.D.
Those couldn't have been good odds! Perhaps, if you tried to play dead, he would have shown his hand easily!
writergal20
Life can be crazy at times, but our choices could make life just a little normal. very humorous story. it was very fun for me read.
I'm happy you enjoyed it, writergal! Thank you for your feedback. 
drjim
WW,'the strange gene' is inherited from ONE parent - and since then, we've had endless conversations as to which daughter will outdo the other!
And yes, a joke for this 'bare bones' NL you've penned for all of us to digest. A young woman, married to a billionaire who had weird sexual tastes, presides over his funeral. She orders the mortician, while whispering in his ear, the TWO THINGS he MUST do to the deceased's body before burial. His eyes opened wide with surprise...and he agrees. At the open casket the next day, the widow bends over to speak to her dead husband (who -wearing an Armani gown with pumps- miraculously appears to have a single tear rolling down his cheek. In a raspy, self-satisfied voice, she tells him -"It HURTS, doesn't it?!?" Great NL - and keep the funky family news coming for all the world to ROFLTAO at! - Dr J
 Thank you, Doc! It's always a pleasure to receive your comments. 
BIG BAD WOLF is Howling 
Life can be very strange.
I won't argue with you, there! 
omelaila
=D . . . This was a good one!I'm new here, first time reading your newsletter and I certainly enjoyed it.
Thank you so much! I am happy you read this Newsletter and enjoyed it. 
A.T.B: It'sWhatWeDo 
I just fell in love with a newsletter...
Having bounced around a great deal (with scarce results) in my own educational pursuits - pharmacy, medicine, politics/law, music, and most recently lit/writing - I have to admit that I too considered both massage therapy and "mortuary services" at one point.
Luckily, a pharmacist for whom I was working reminded me of something I'd overlooked. "You realize," she said, peeping over her reading glasses. "The better you are at either, the more stiff bodies you'll be required to work on..." I lost count of the script I was filling, laughing hard in that hysterical, shouldn't-be-so-funny manner. But it was funny - still is - 'cause it's just plain true. Since then, though, I've kept my career choices well within the realm of the living.
Except the music gigs with a dead audience, but that's probably more on the performer, I think...
That's okay, Drew. It's best to keep a stiff upper lip through these life altering decisions.
LJPC - the tortoise
Oh my goodness, WW, you really had me rolling with this one. The newsletter with all your death and moldy-oldy puns acted like a warm-up comic, and then you uncorked the main attraction, that story about switching heads!! ROFL, tears are streaming. You rock, WW! (If I die of laughter, I hope your daughter's free...)
-- Laura
Thanks, Laura. I'm always happy to know I didn't bomb at the punchline. You guys are a tough audience, you know.
Miracle
That is so sick! He switched heads! LMAO to tears on that one.
As for your daughter chosing to change from giving massages to becoming a mortician, I have one observation you might not have considered. Someone who massages is great for relieving all those muscle aches, but they are also wonderful for an indulgence or luxory. Many people may have sexual partners who just don't know how to use their hands to make you really feel good. Others may have partners too lazy to do anything with their hands to make them feel good. And of course there are the singles. Many may prefer paying a professional to touch them right over trying the alleys or the general public.
If you are truly looking for something positive to tell your daughter; tell her this...
At least you can rest assured that none of your male customers will be getting stiff in certain places over enjoying a pretty girl rubbing them.
I think you just did that for me. Thank you BTW! My lips will remain hermetically sealed on the subject.
Jack & Phoebe Fan -- Via email:
Thanks for including my item in your newsletter. I thoroughly enjoyed reading what you wrote! You made me literally "laugh out loud"!
Marcie
It was my pleasure, Marcie! Thanks so much for the feedback. I'm happy you enjoyed the newsletter.
Thank you for your feedback folks. We editors really appreciate it.
See you next month!
WW
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Comedy: May 25, 2011 Issue [#4402]
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