Today is my Birthday. They say I'm not getting younger - that I'm one day closer to the grave, and that my hips won't work forever. They say I should take it easy, maybe retire and take Sheila up on her offer to move in with the family. It sure would be nice to see my grandkids a bit more.
I'm worrying they could grow up into homosexuals. I don't know much about that sort of thing, but them gays can't wrestle an alligator like normal folk. Especially young Cain, who wears a dress that doesn't cover his knees. They say I should go sort them out.
They say a lot of things though. I don't understand most of them.
I'm getting old.