You just might be a Geriatric if you get this....

A few months ago, I turned 55 years old. Ever since I turned 50 signs of age have been creeping in at a rate that is alarming to me. Nothing severe like Dementia or early onset Alzheimer as far as I know but things like the following;

1.      Keep forgetting where I put my beer or anything else I handle

2.      Inexplicably losing my balance, usually while looking for my beer

3.      Aches and pains that that don’t seem to go away

4.      Getting up more than once a night to go to the bathroom

5.      Forgetting people’s names who are actually close friends

6.      Non-stop minor injuries that used to heal in days that now take weeks or months

I will end the list at six instead of my usual eleven since I do not want to be that old person who complains about everything.

All this is no big deal to me, I feel quite youthful and I am in decent shape. I am by no means a geriatric or at least I thought until this came in the mail addressed to me.

Medical Alert Post Card final.jpg

How dare these MF’ers to send this to me! How did I get on their list? God knows it was not my wife since that would delay her life with Javier the pool boy. I will risk dying alone from a fall and have my body eaten by stray animals before I ever buy their product. They can stick their $50 gift certificate where the sun doesn’t shine. I hope they detect my insolence. I will, however, forward it onto my Dad.


It’s All About Me, Me, Me, Me, Me.  Who the heck is the Bob behind and do you really want to know?  Anyway………

My name is Bob and I’ve been told I joke too much.  The naming of my website came from my trip to Nepal when after the first couple of days trekking to the Mt. Everest Base Camp our Sherpa Guide, Limbu, confided in my friend the following; “Bob is a nice guy but Bob Joke Too Much”.  Once he started to understand and/or tolerate my sarcasm (maybe 21 days in) we became good friends and supporters of his guide business.  So it all worked out but now my friend tends to remind me of that quote when I go too far with my satirical humor.

Anyway......I was born a poor black child of a sharecropper on the front porch of my home in the Mississippi Delta.  Not buying that?  OK, just a middle class, blue collar kid in an all-white, Irish Catholic neighborhood boarding the Southwest side of Chicago.  One of seven children raised by a normal Mom and Dad who obviously believed the Catholic Church recommendation of the Rhythm Method as an effective form of contraception.  My Wife, two boys and I live in Chicago.

Observing and experiencing life since 1963.  I have been extensively educated at Father Mulsoff Industrial School for Incorrigible Kid’s, Brother Duffin High School for Vulnerable Boys and The Institute for Applied Nonsense.  Note that even though the 1st two schools had known molesters as “teachers”, I was never once approached for molestation in spite of the fact that I was very susceptible, small, skinny and weak boy.  Due to current litigation against the Catholic Church for discrimination, that’s all I can say on the subject.

I have no qualifications for being a writer.  However, this will not stop me from publishing many of the yearly 17,000 thoughts that pop into my mind on the website and anywhere else. I will cover topics including parenting, gun control, donkeys, idiots, politics, religion, racism and any other controversial subjects I find worthy in an attempt of provoking laughs, stimulating deep thinking and/or just pissing off the politically correct with my satirical prose.  My thoughts and opinions will appear on my website and all other social media outlets no matter how much a waste of time until I die.