Herr Frankenstein

 

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Herr Frankenstein, we’re almost there

Behold the thatch we call his hair!

The orange face, the deadeye stare

We’ll add small hands, large paunch, long tie

Plus, a great capacity to lie!

Let’s make him petty, unaware

Let’s make him tweet without a care,

Herr Frankenstein, we’re almost there!

 

Herr Frankenstein, our cunning plan

To pass this monster off as man

Requires more flab, a deeper tan!

Let’s make him racist, glib and crude

A bully of great magnitude

He must appear as Superman

To NRA and Ku Klux Klan

Herr Frankenstein, this is the plan!

 

Herr Frankenstein, our man’s complete

This monstrous engineering feat

Claims rules and laws are obsolete

He wages trade wars round the globe

And rails against the Russia probe

The world’s most oddly coiffed Deadbeat

faux family man, who lives to cheat

Herr Frankenstein, our task’s complete!

 

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Exercises For The Elderly: What Fresh Hell Is This?

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Dear Readers,

Sadly, it has come to my attention that ‘exercise for the elderly’ has become the latest health fad to hit the headlines. According to so-called scientific studies, the more one exercises in one’s twilight years, the longer one’s faculties remain intact. But has this grotesque observation ever been solidly proven?

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Personally, I am against doing anything more strenuous than forging a cheque, an activity that has been shown irrefutably to improve one’s handwriting skills AND one’s bank balance, well into old age. Husband Helmut is in absolute agreement (or is it that he finds Absolut agreeable?).

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One of my biggest peeves, is constantly having to hear that exercise is a panacea for all of life’s woes. It isn’t. Exercise in all its forms, is DULL to the extreme, and a waste of precious drinking time. Apart from the physical act of doing it, talking about exercise is even duller – if that’s possible.

Yet, there is an entire industry devoted to this piteous pursuit, including hours of aimless conversation extoling its benefits. In addition, sporty types and ‘health gurus’ regularly subject innocent, stationary seniors to obscenely boring monologues regarding upcoming sporting events, sports injuries and garish sports apparel and accessories.

sporty

Alas, not content with performing Pilates at home and in one’s nighties, the athletically-afflicted among us possess an overwhelming desire to be seen in public wearing ‘the gear’ i.e. ‘treds’ meaning running shoes, and ‘sweats’ meaning expensive brand-name pants and T-shirts. As well as ridiculous neon clothes that smell rancid in no time, the latest must-have while exercising is a wristwatch or smart phone app that monitors one’s heart-rate and calorie count. Dear readers, there is only one set of figures that warrants careful monitoring: ALCOHOL CONTENT

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When it comes to staying fit, one has to ask: what could be more bothersome for us Old Relics than a once-a-day lower body workout? One such workout, known euphemistically as pelvic floor exercises’, is supposedly a most effective  treatment when it comes to improving one’s bladder control. But where’s the proof, dear readers? Are Port-a-Potties and ‘Products for the Elderly’ on their way out? Is mopping up after one of Helmut’s little accidents, a lesser kind of floor exercise? Nowhere. No. And Definitely No.

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Are Port-a-Potties on the way out?

Are Port-a-Potties on their way out?

As for weight-bearing exercises, or ‘weight-BORING exercises’  as Helmut prefers to call them, should we Golden Oldies ever feel bullied into bearing more than our fair share (by sadistic offspring, for example), then may I suggest we increase the number of hip-flasks we carry to two or more, rather than our usual ONE? Naturally, keeping our flasks filled with Bombay at all times. When it comes to exercising with weights, Helmut’s personal motto: “just gin and bear it” is more than suitably appropriate!

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Dear readers, in my opinion this simple monitoring, plus a zombie-like shuffle to and from the pub, should be more than sufficient to keep one alert and in tip-top shape. On a more personal note, I find hauling a stupefied Helmut OFF THE FLOOR every night, and dragging that dear man, inch by inch, up those rickety stairs to bed, to be a most gratifying form of exercise. One just has to pay attention he’s not been lying on any sort of pelvic floor…

Cheerio. Bottoms Up & Happy Exercising!

Helga

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