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

A problem with teeth
This minister just had all of his remaining teeth pulled and new dentures were being made.

The first Sunday, he only preached 10 minutes.

The second Sunday, he preached only 20 minutes.

But, on the third Sunday, he preached 1 hour 25 minutes.

When asked about this by some of the congregation, he responded this way.

The first Sunday, my gums were so sore it hurt to talk.

The second Sunday, my dentures were hurting a lot.

The third Sunday, I accidentally grabbed my wife's dentures... and I couldn't stop talking!