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Flatulent at Fifty

January 19, 2012 By Keith Humphreys @KeithNHumphreys

To laugh at the indignities of aging is unkind. To laugh at flatulence is puerile.

Now that I am done being high-minded, let me confess that Toby Young made me laugh at both.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Humor

Comments

  1. Black and Blue Man says

    January 19, 2012 at 2:24 am

    Ha, ha, ha, ha! 🙂

    PAAAAAAAAAAAAARP!

    Excuse me.

    • Keith Humphreys says

      January 19, 2012 at 12:47 pm

      : )

  2. Ebenezer Scrooge says

    January 19, 2012 at 4:08 am

    Age is, alas, a fever chill
    That every physicist must fear
    He’s better dead than living still
    When once he’s past his thirtieth year

    -P.A.M. Dirac

  3. Marcel says

    January 19, 2012 at 7:33 am

    Thank you.
    Quite timely for me, as I turn 50 (base 11) tomorrow (In a nice trend, next year I turn 40 (base 14)).

    • Dave Schutz says

      January 19, 2012 at 12:03 pm

      I like Mars years, myself

    • Max Bialystok says

      January 19, 2012 at 1:30 pm

      And then the following year, you will turn 10 (base 57), at which point the bases will be loaded.

      • marcel says

        January 19, 2012 at 5:10 pm

        Nah, 10 doesn’t appeal to me. I think I’ll shoot for 30 (base 19). Ah, to be once again in the prime of life.

  4. Aardvark Cheeselog says

    January 19, 2012 at 8:12 am

    That time of year thou mayst in me behold
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
    Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
    Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
    In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
    As after sunset fadeth in the west;
    Which by and by black night doth take away,
    Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
    In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
    That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
    As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
    Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
    This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
    To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

    — Shakespeare, Sonnet 73

    It’s not so bad, really.

    • Marcel says

      January 19, 2012 at 10:04 am

      Seems to me that Toby Young is writing about something singing other than sweet birds.

    • Keith Humphreys says

      January 19, 2012 at 12:44 pm

      Aardvark: One of my favorite of the bard’s poems; it will resonate eternally.

      • Aardvark Cheeselog says

        January 20, 2012 at 7:29 am

        Personally I think it takes a back seat to “Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,” “When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defac’d,” and (my favorite, I think) “Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea.”

    • NCG says

      January 19, 2012 at 1:02 pm

      As a straight woman, may I say that many men aren’t much good at relationships until they hit middle age. Things could be worse. Do you really want to be 25 forever?

      • marcel says

        January 19, 2012 at 5:11 pm

        Curious to know how you’ve come to be in a position where you can make such a judgment.

        You wouldn’t happen to be the relationship analog of this woman, would you?

        • NCG says

          January 20, 2012 at 12:23 pm

          It’s a thing called observation, mostly. No doubt there’s a physical aspect too – maybe the fog of too much testosterone lifts a bit.

          Anyhow, I’d think it would have been good news.

          • NCG says

            January 20, 2012 at 7:16 pm

            And you know, I never said women were perfect. But that’s not my problem!

  5. Anomalous says

    January 19, 2012 at 1:19 pm

    Getting old may suck but it beats the altermative. On the other hand, if Mr. Young is in that bad of shape on the south side of 50 I can see why he is so worried.

    • CharlesWT says

      January 19, 2012 at 3:56 pm

      Yeah, seems like his problems are due more to lifestyle than age.

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