Another pitfall is that when you finally succumb to your old age, there will be nobody left to attend your funeral. Most likely not even Drew Carrey will come because he lives in Hollywood and because although he is your best friend, he does not know that you ever existed. A bummer? You bet. Because, like many of you, I plan on living well into my hundreds, I have started thinking about strategies for making new friends once I reach the centenarian mark.
One of the big knocks against extremely old people is that they get kind of dumb. They can’t hear and a lot of the time they don’t know what you’re talking about. For example, if I tell any 100+ year old about kicking my kid’s ass on the new Super Mario Bros for Wii, they will most likely have no idea what I’m talking about. So my first strategy is to stay current on everything. Everything. When I am a hundred, I will not only be conversant, but fluent, in the areas of pop culture, science, metallurgy, Asian cooking, tree pruning, pornographic anime, gourds, etc. In this way, I will hope to establish myself as something of a guru. People will come to me and ask my opinion of the future equivalent of Lady Gaga and I will offer highly informed and crankily funny opinions. Which leads me to my second strategy: become a crank.
Everybody likes cranky old people. (See: Andy Rooney) Cranky middle-aged people are annoying. Nobody likes the guy screaming at you to find somebody else to throw up. But cranky old people are adorable. I don’t know why this is, but it’s true. The older you get, the crankier you socially be. Even racism is acceptable when you get to be a certain age. Therefore I plan on saying horrible things on a nearly constant basis. I will curse and belittle and denigrate everybody who crosses my path. Instead of calling me a hateful bastard, they will call me “feisty,” and they will attribute my long life to said feistiness. Bullshit. The thing that will keep me is modern science and ground-up rhino horn.
Third, be visible. The older you get, the more feeble you become. The more feeble you become, the less mobility you have. Therefore, you’ve got to figure out a way to remain visible. Scooters are a great option. But so are riding mowers. A few years ago David Lynch directed a movie called “The Straight Story” about an older, cranky man who drove his rider mower across Iowa to visit his brother. I plan on employing this same strategy to visit the grocery store, local tavern, library, and for general getting around. The difference? I will wear a cape and a Batman cowl. Because in addition to feistiness, people appreciate eccentricity in their old people.
Another tip: tell every lady you come across beautiful she looks, and then hand her a carnation. Carnations are cheap and don’t have the same cheesy connotation as roses. A woman receiving a carnation from a hundred year old man in a Batman cape and cowl is less apt to think “perv” and more likely to think “sexy.” This keeps the libido active, which can only be a good thing.
Finally, lie about your age. Add fifteen to twenty years to your actual age. Therefore once you reach a hundred, start telling folks (always refer to other people as “folks”) that you are a hundred and fifteen. Nobody will believe you but it will add an element of mystery. Soon people will be hunting for your birth records, the local paper might do a story and the reanimated corpse of Willard Scott might even give you a shout-out on “The Today Show.”
Living to a hundred is great, but you’ve got to make it work for you. Maybe you can think of your strategies for enjoying these “golden years.” If you do, pass them along. If enough of us live long enough we can all hang out together and have ourselves a good laugh when one of our members dies.