A friend sent the following to me in an email recently. Laughin' to keep from crying:

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown in the economy, Congress has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 50 years of age and above on early retirement, thus creating jobs and reducing unemployment.

This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retire Aged People Early). Persons selected to be RAPED can apply to Congress to be considered for the SHAFT program (Special Help After Forced Termination).

Persons who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will be reviewed under the SCREW program (System Covering Retired-Early Workers). A person may be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice and SCREWED as many times as Congress deems appropriate.

Persons who have been RAPED could get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependents & Spouse) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance). Obviously persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTED or SCREWED any further by Congress.

Persons who are not RAPED and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. Congress has always prided themselves on the amount of SHIT they give our citizens.

Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring this to
the attention of your Congressman, who has been trained to give you all the SHIT you can handle.

Sincerely,
The Committee for Economic Value of Individual Lives (E.V.I.L.)

PS - - Due to recent budget cuts and the rising cost of electricity, gas and oil, as well as current market conditions, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been turned off.

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Last night we thought we'd spend a quiet evening in New York City with a million of our closest friends. I have to say, I was amazed at the number of people wandering about, staring at the store windows and generally having a fun, free Christmas Eve - until we decided to go to Rockefeller Plaza. Apparently (and I say this with great affection) this has become THE attraction for out-of-towners... and I'm not talking about Jersey. It seems that every human being with a camera was taking family portraits in front of the big Christmas tree. It was so congested, literally shoulder-to-shoulder, that it was total gridlock. Jan was freaked out, but I decided I'd try to see how many family photos I could get into. At first I just positioned myself in the frame and acted like I was just admiring the tree, but as I became more brave, I inserted myself into the group, smiled a big toothy grin and acted like I was a really tall, blond, distant relative. I know I'm in at least 6 photos. My favorite? I sauntered up to a family of about 6 women (dad was taking the picture) and smiled. I could see dad was a bit perplexed and he shooed me out. The others only realized I was there when he tried to get me to step back, but I just said "can I get in?" The girls gigggled and said yes (I think they said yes) and dad snapped the photo. Just my way of spreading holiday cheer all around the world.

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I came across a lovely website today--one that celebrates youth and hope and joy and no...it's not about the next generation or the next-next generation. The site, My Parents Were Awesome, consists entirely of photographs of couples when they were young...submitted by their children. There's something moving and full-circle about seeing a parent as a discrete human being..with a life before kids and all the other grown-up things. Or....as the country song says, "Mama..before she was Mama.'

There will be photos that seem familiar to all of us--- from the 50's (and before) through what look like the 80's. But unlike sites that celebrate the snarky, the derisive and often bizarre, like Awkward Family Photos, My Parents is a tribute, not only to our own youthful awesomeness, but to the fact that our kids see it that way too. One quibble: what's with the My Parents Were Awesome?

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I'm not ot sure how it all started, perhaps finding friends on Facebook had reached an end. So, I searched for God.

First, there are several Gods on Facebook. I suspect Facebook of trying to cover their bases. What if one of them really is God? Would you want to be the guy at Facebook to say - "Sorry, we already have a God. You could be God01." Right then and there, I decide (to my dismay) Facebook itself is not God.

This first God has just 317 Friends. And apparently this God is administered by a guy named Jordan Howard - better known as the "creator."

OK, I'm not falling for this. I don't think God would allow Jordon to call himself the creator. Seems a little blasphemous to me. And according to Facebook, we're connected by geography. So right there, I know this isn't God, because I live in New Jersey.

This next God, has 387 friends.

Not sure this is God at all because there are posts from someone named Aylin Baysefr from Russia posing the burning question... "russian girls is the most beautiful girl in the world/... do u agree?????" Well, I don't think God would allow god-awful grammar and spelling on his wall - 19 times. This God is administered by Afsal Hamza from Romaina, so maybe it's some sort of our-girls-are-hotter-than-your-girls smackdown site. I considerd joining this group, but this God lists a related group as "Kung Fu Panda." God only knows, that movie sucked.

Now it gets interesting, the next God has 767 friends - mainly because I think this God has a sense of humor (something I look for in my God.)

He states, "You are not friends, until you are facebook friends with God." I've always heard of people having a personal relationship with God, but according to Manish Volraire (this God's administrator) it now requires prayer AND friending God.

I admit, it would be cool to see "Peter is now friends with God." But I'm just not sure this is really God. Lots of earnest scripture quoting here. Do religious people go to some Christian language seminar where they learn words like "helpeth"? BTW, our friend from Russia is also posting about hot girls here... which proves even God can't get rid of spam.

Finally, the really big God. 2,825,000 friends. WOW, this must really be God. Then I think, shouldn't God have something like 200 bazillion friends?

This God doesn't allow wall comments, which seems fair, afterall, he's already got prayer, what does he need a Facebook wall for?

So, I'm getting the impression this is just some slick God marketing until I read - "recent activity - God joined Facebook." - and I KNOW this is a fake, because we all know God CREATED Facebook.

Anyway, the other Facebook Gods look like pikers compared to this one.

I join.

I can't comment to my God. My God doesn't have any status updates. There's no live God feed or God photos. I can't have snappy recourse with other God fans, and aside from the Brittany Spears ad in the right column, this God looks more legit than most. So now that I've found my God, all I can really do is is share my God with friends. For this, he is saving MySpace in heaven.

Just a couple of notes for those of you wanting to do a more extensive search for God:

www.god.com Uninspired design and mostly hawking books for sale.
www.heaven.com Nifty "religion tree." Note, how Christians are apparently closer to God than any other religion. Satan has a snappy logo, but they don't link to him and apparently satan is at the root of all religion.
Good is apparently is a technology company - I'm jaded.
Bad is just an advertising site - fitting, I guess.

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The Oldest Living Human on Facebook - Friday, April 20, 2007
Recently my college-bound son invited me to be his friend on Facebook. Whether this was a temporary lapse into cuteness, sentimentality, or mischief, even he isn't sure. But, like the intrepid internet pioneer I am, I said "golly, sure thing"...

The Boomer Stampede to Facebook - Friday, February 27, 2009
Times have surely changed since I wrote about being the oldest living human on Facebook a few years ago. Not only are the original college-aged kids now out in the real world and using Facebook for both social and business...

Google search: facebook, god

Yes, it's the 40th anniversary of the real Woodstock. Several sequels notwithstanding, the 3 days of peace and love was a defining event of a generation. What's interesting to me is how many people use Woodstock as a frame of reference:
"I was there and..."
"I was on the way there but..."
"I wasn't there but my (fill-in-the-blank) was...."
"Um...I think I was there..."

We would love to hear your Woodstock weekend stories--whether you were there or couldn't be there or didn't even want to be there. What were you doing the weekend of August 15-18, 1969?

We asked a few friends and here are some of things we've heard so far:

"How could I be there? I was so young I would've had to go with a babysitter."
"I was all ready to go, but my parents grounded me."
"Even then I wasn't so much about camping and stuff. How would I have dried my hair?"
"I was there..no, really, I was."

Personally, I was engrossed in the music scene in Newport, Rhode Island that summer. I stayed for a few months and went to the Newport Jazz and Folk Festivals. It required taking odd, odder and oddest jobs, copious amounts of drugs, occasional sleeping in parks or on floors, and some of the best music I had ever heard. Sadly, I was summoned (ordered) home in mid-August--August 15th to be exact.

Here's a fun site about Woodstock. You can read other people's reminiscences there too.

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As boomers ponder their dream retirement havens, it would be wise to consider more than just the state tax element of the benefit/drawback equation. Amenities aside, considerations such as sales tax, social security and property tax need to be taken into account as well. Of course, when you live in one of the most expensive states in the country like we do, almost anywhere else looks good. This article on nj.com is a good overview of tax considerations.

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As we watch carefully to see what, if any, healthcare makeovers are on the horizon, there is one disturbing detail that will affect boomers. Many doctors, both internists and specialists, are opting-out of Medicare, citing low reimbursements and the paperwork hassle. This could leave many of us with alternatives that are either more expensive, more restricted or both.

An article this past spring in the New York Times, does a good job of covering the issue and some alternatives, including walk-in urgent care centers and concierge doctors. Whatever the choice, boomers stand to lose in this equation.

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Those under 30, please cover your eyes. We're about to reveal that old people have sex. Ewwww. According to an article this spring in The Baltimore Sun:

The merits of staying sexually active through the years are obvious and plentiful: joy and excitement, connectedness, and a host of health benefits. Scientists have shown that having sex regularly boosts the immune system and releases hormones that lower stress levels, improve sleep, and might even hold off wrinkles: A Scottish study found that people who enjoy sex every other day looked about seven to 12 years younger than their peers, on average.

Man, if that isn't enough inducement to have sex, you just don't have a pulse.

The article cites studies from the British Medical Journal and the University of Chicago among others, examining the willingness, ability and little helpers that characterize sex among those of us of a certain age.

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In the NY Magazine Approval Matrix dedicated to Michael Jackson. there was a teeny blurb that caught me up: "The only one who could make white socks, black shoes, and highwater pants look cool."

Nyuh-uh. Consider two of the most important male dancers in American popular culture. Fred Astaire was known to wear soft loafers, white socks and black pants to focus attention on the steps. That also translates to the ubiquitous spats we see him pairing with tuxedos. Formal wear--same effect. Then of course, that other virile sexy male dancer--Gene Kelly. Although most often in khakis, he too went with the soft black shoes, light socks and shortened pants. He upped the sexiness ante by almost always wearing short sleeve shirts too.

Michael Jackson was a brilliant dancer, no doubt. But please let's not let our cultural references start in the '80s.



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While reading a NY Times article about the Michael Jackson memorial, I came across one of the strangest juxtapositions of words I have ever seen.

"Two of Mr. Jackson's closest friends, Elizabeth Taylor and Diana Ross, both sent regrets. Ms. Taylor via Twitter..."

I'm struggling to imagine Liz Taylor's 77-year old bejeweled fingers texting her RSVP. What did she write? 'Can't cm 2 ur prty'? For those who think the newest tech toys are only for the young, please take a moment to visualize this.

OK, it's probable that one of her staff did this for her. Did they have to explain Twitter first? And did she, brought up in a more etiquette-conscious time, think that a tweet was an appropriate response? When I think of all the stupid things I could use my Twitter account for, condolences to a close friend's family doesn't make the list.

I have to return to my vision of a mu-mu clad, diamond-dripping Elizabeth Taylor texting while she waits for the elevator.

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