I don’t lie about anything particularly vital or of grave importance. Perhaps, I didn’t really have malaria the night of your really late starting party, 12 blocks from the nearest subway station, on a weeknight, in that other borough. Maybe, I actually did have two dimes to rub together when Eli, the fragrant subway panhandler, inquired about my change situation. And I suppose it’s entirely possible that I wasn’t quite as impressed as I had acted when I praised your performance in that acutely somber and self-important drama in that un-air conditioned, un-ventilated, East Village church basement. That being said, I would never lie about death panels or anchor children or the Obama tax increases. You are aware, by the way, that those are all complete lies? Utterly and completely fabricated. Pulled out of thin air. The problem is that when the lies are repeated on a daily basis by those with power and great access to the media, and when Fox News and Rush Limbaugh and their ilk report those lies as if they were factual bits of news, well people start believing them. Most Americans believe that Obama has raised their taxes, repeatedly, when in truth he’s actually lowered them for 95% of the population. I heard John Boehner, this weekend on Meet the Press, tell me that our taxes have been raised. And I read the same thing on Sarah’s Facebook page today, so I guess it must be true. Still, unlike our right-leaning friends, when I lie to you, I will fess up. So, for the vast throng out there kind enough to follow my tales - all three of you - I will attempt to be true and loyal. Like your dog. Or your grandma. Or hopefully someone a little cooler than that - like Fonzie. Please, let me be your Fonzie…won’t you?
I recently wrote about my lack of fear toward my senior years. I told you that I was, actually somewhat, looking forward to growing older. Then a package arrived at work today and, honestly, this was a little brown box of reminders. For, contained within was protein, creatine, and a vast assortment of amino acids. Because, my friends, in reality, I look forward to growing old like George W looked forward to his SATs, like Cheney looked forward to his 5 (eventually deferred) draft notices, like Sharron Angle looks forward to a competency hearing. In truth, I am desperately trying to maintain my youth. Vitamin A, B, C, D, E - they could shoot Sesame Street in my medicine cabinet. Bilberry Extract, CoQ-10, Hawthorn, CLA, ALA, Fish Oil, L-Theanine, Beta Alanine, Calcium, Enzymes, Probiotics, Hemlock, Heroine and Mydol. I’m the legal Timothy Leary. The Dylan Thomas of minerals. When I walk into my local Vitamin Shoppe it’s like Norm entering Cheers. And can you blame me? Is there any real motivation for growing old naturally and gracefully? Did Catherine Zeta Jones suddenly come calling when my follicles starting deserting me for the warmer climes of the shower drain? Do the monthly playmates ever list as their “turn-ons” saggy jowls, puffy eyes and hirsute ear canals? I think not. Have you ever belonged to AARP? After a year, I tired of daily discount offers for life insurance and eternal resting places. Every issue of the AARP magazine wrote, in great and horribly depressing detail, about how to get along without money, food or any surviving friends or family. Each copy should have come with a complimentary noose. So, listen to me Scooter Store and Medic Alert-people and makers of chairs that climb up the side of my staircase, you will not win this day. You will not defeat me. I have GNC and Vitamin Shoppe and Invite and most importantly, Mastercard and Visa in my corner. So heed this warning Depends and Fix-o-dent and Ensure - like Barbara Eden of old, as both Jeannie and her sister, Jeannie II (I am ancient, aren’t I?) you may tempt me but you will never be the victor. For, indeed, I may have fallen, but I CAN get up.