2022 has
been an uncomfortable year for me. I am
a year older moving toward my mid-eighties and beginning to feel my
mortality. I have had a couple of heart flair-ups
and ended up in intensive care for two days.
I look in the mirror and barely recognize the old man looking back at
me.
It brings to
mind the book Fool, by one of my favorite authors Christopher
Moore. It is the story of King Lear as
told by his Court Jester.
“Goneril went
to her father and took his hand, ‘Yes father you are old. Very old.
Really, really, extraordinarily, mind-bogglingly –‘
She turned to
me for a clue.
‘Dog
fuckingly’, I suggested.
‘- Dog-fuckingly
old; said the duchess. You are feebly, incontinently,
desiccatedly, smelling-of boiled-cabbagely old.
You are brain–rottingly, balls-draggingly –‘
‘I'm fucking
old!’ said Lear.”
Like King
Lear I fucking old, I’ll stipulate that.
As exposed
in my blog, like most old men I am full of advice, mainly because I am too old
to go out and set a bad example.
the Ol’Buzzard
