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

An anti-bat spray
Three Pastors from the south were having lunch in a diner. One said, "Ya know, since summer started I've been having trouble with bats in my loft and attic at church. I've tried everything-noise, spray, cats - nothing seems to scare them away. Another said, "Yea, me too. I've got hundreds living in my belfry and in the attic. I've even had the place fumigated, and they won't go away." The third said, "I baptized all mine, and made them members of the church... Haven't seen one back since!"