Hey guys!

If you hadn't guessed from my somewhat oblique post yesterday, it was my 40th birthday.

I went for the birthday physical on Monday and was told that I'm in pretty okay shape for a forty-year old, given.

That was the good news.

The bad news is that getting older is a condition for which the only cure - dying - is probably worse than the disease. Unchecked, the prognosis is that next year I will continue growing older - turning 41 - and so on.

It reminds me of an awful joke:

"What's so great about winning the Special Olympics? You win, and you're STILL retarded..."

On the bright side, Lynn took me out last night and I had a
Old Forester Birthday Bourbon (1995) and it was truly sublime.