An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

Air Heads
Poor Jim is killed in a Boston automobile accident, but happily he goes to heaven where he gets to meet God and asks God if he can ask him a few questions.

"Sure. Go right ahead," says the Almighty.

"OK," Jim says, "Why did you make women so pretty?"

"So you would like them," God replies.

"All right then," Jim nods, "but come you made them so nice and soft and curvey?"

"So you would LOVE them," God replies.

Jim ponders a moment and then asks, "But why did you make them such air heads?"

God replies, "So THEY would love YOU!"