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 Bee at a Bar Mitzvah
A hungry bee meets a fellow bee who directs the hungry one
to a Bar Mitzvah. The hungry bee eats his fill, then again
meets his friend.

The second bee asks how it went, and hears that his friend
ate plenty. The second bee then asks why the first bee is
wearing a yarmulke (the small round cap that religious Jews
often wear).

The first bee replies, "It was a Bar Mitzvah. I didn't want
anyone to think I was a WASP."