Sometimes you just have to go for it.

To hell with the conservative approach.

So?  You save your money for what?

To live out your senior years with a glorious blast?

Listen to me.  In your golden years, there is very little to blast about.

If you haven’t done it by now, chances are you will be less than successful, when you try to put on the dog.

So, let the dogs out, blast away and give it one for the gipper.

When you get the opportunity to let it all hang out, do it.

You look in the mirror and think: Oh geez, I am old.  I need to settle down.

You try out your new persona.  I am a senior citizen, an old, weak, delusional fruit cake.  I need help. Thank you for walking me across the street.

NOOOOOOO!

Can we talk?

It has been said that when you get really old, you get invisible.  You fade into the sunset, and nobody acknowledges nor greets you.

Wrong.

We old bags insist on being recognized, for what we are.

And whenever we get the chance, we hop on a bus, to the casino, or to the adult book store or to NYC.

And that, my dear friends, is where I will be.  NYC.  Oh yeah.  June 4, 2015.

Hello NBC.

Hello Jersey Boys.

Hello Park Ave.

Hello NYC.

I can’t wait til we meet again.

 

Wolf

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