August 21 is NATIONAL SENIOR CITIZENS DAY….at least, that’s the official designation, but we both know you would’ve bypassed this piece like a pile of putrefying purulence if I had titled it with so bland a banner. After all, my aim here is to grab readers — I’m not posting this opus delicti for my health, even at my age.

Depending on who’s doing the defining of a senior citizen, one officially becomes one at whatever age suits the definer’s purpose, which is to relieve you of money you might spend elsewhere, or might even save under your 30 year-old mattress, which in mattress lifespan-years is the equivalent of two senior citizens (unless you sleep alone, like you probably do if you’re literally an old fart).

AARP, for example, says you’re a senior citizen at age 50 provided you become an AARP member; otherwise, though you live as long as Methuselah, you ain’t nothin’ but a juvenile delicti. At IHOP, you get a senior discount at age 55, but if you hope to get same at SUBWAY, you need to live to age 60, while at the IRS, you don’t qualify for a deduction until you’re 65 (or an accountant or wife adds years to your life).

NATIONAL SENIOR CITIZENS DAY was proclaimed by President Reagan in August 1988, when he was 77 and eligible for all of the above, and I was only eligible for AARP and still thought old jokes were old jokes, not jokes about old people. Somehow, the latter seem to have become less funny to me with time, but assuming you may find them semi-amusing, I’ll stop farting around and pass a few samples along:

At church one Sunday, an elderly woman leans over and whispers in her husband’s ear, “I’ve just let out a silent fart. What do you think I should do?”
Her husband replies, “Put a new battery in your hearing aid.”

The family wheeled Grandma out onto the lawn in her wheelchair, where the activities for her 100th birthday were taking place. Grandma could no longer speak very well, but she could write notes when she needed to communicate. After a while, Grandma started leaning to the right, so some family members grabbed her, straightened her up, and stuffed pillows under her right arm. A short time later, she started leaning to the left, so again the family grabbed her and stuffed pillows under her left arm. Soon, she started leaning forward, so once again the family grabbed her and tied a pillow around her waist to hold her up. Finally, a late-arriver came up to her and said, “Hi, Grandma, you’re looking good! How are they treating you?” Grandma took out her little notepad and pencil and slowly wrote, “They won’t let me fart.” 

It seems that we’ve come to….






  1. This column is a good way to cover up the fact that you may be an old fart. Except if you are still married, I presume you have not reached that sorry goal.
    Somehow strolling down the white oyster shell beach with my younger husband made me fell younger again yesterday. Can being happily retired negate being a senior citizen? If so, your statistics are incorrect by my standards yet your posting is still new to me. Good work, Ken. 🙂


  2. Don Frankel says:

    It’s nice to know we have a day and that it was designated into existence by the then 77 year old President Reagan which let’s us know we all still have things to do. I intend to cut my next one for The Gipper.


  3. arekhill1 says:

    Coincidentally, I, too, wrote of farts today. And I am staring down the gun-barrel of old-fartdom myself, if I am not actually there. But enough about me and, possibly, enough about farts.


  4. mistermuse says:

    Thanks, all, for your comments. I’m currently having computer trouble, so kindly excuse the generic reply while I get help trying to find out what the problem is.


  5. Maybe an alien farted into your computer? Hope it gets decomped. 🙂


  6. mistermuse says:

    Michaeline, it appears that WordPress (my server) is the one who farted into my computer – at least, that’s what my help tells me. Hopefully, WordPress will clear this up shortly, as I’m hesitant to write any new posts until they do.


  7. eths says:

    Here’s to happy farting!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. mistermuse says:

    That’s a happy thought, but Shakespeare saw it a little differently: “Farting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”
    And so, playing no favorites, I say both happy farting and goodnight till it be morrow. Who says you can’t please everyone?


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