RaisingDad

sing to the tune of Neil Sedaka's  Breaking Up Is Hard To Do Can’t doo-doo Ow owie ouch ow ow Grumble grumble ow owie ouch ow ow Grumble grumble ow owie ouch ow ow Getting old is hard to do    It takes so long for me to pee I start at two and I end at three Forget to zip when I'm through 'Cause getting old is hard to do    Transgendered men, it hurts to think How'd it feel chopping off my dink Either way, my sex life's through 'Cause getting old is hard to do    They say that getting old is hard to do Feet hurt bad My hair's thinning, too Limp dick that will only bend If I weren't so old I could be filling my wife's hole again    I beg of you, just let me die When I bend my knees I start to cry My insides all turning to goo ' Cause getting old is hard to do    They say that getting old is hard to do Eyesight's gone My hearing is, too Will this constipation end?...

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desertexposure.com I know I complain about my father.      In fact, I probably complain about my father a lot, but I do give him credit for the nuggets of wisdom he’s passed on to me. Before my first marriage, he told me, “Son, if you’re ever tempted to cheat on your wife, make sure it’s with someone worth losing your marriage over.”      Good advice. Too bad my ex-wife didn’t follow it, maybe we’d still be married. In the end, it worked out better. I met and married my second wife. She’s beautiful AND she loves to cook. That’s a nice combination.      My ex-wife?      Well, she and her boyfriend lost their jobs when they got caught stealing refrigerators from where they worked. How you steal something that big is beyond me. Maybe that’s why I’m still employed. Still, it didn’t surprise me. When I woke up the morning after our wedding ...

I called our father on Monday, and he said that you sounded very sad the last time you spoke with him on the phone, maybe even crying.      “How come, pop?” I asked, not really interested.    “He was depressed because every time he comes to town, he gets mistaken for a Kardashian from behind.”       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.Blogspot.com JimDuchene.Blogspot.com American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

I figure the conversation you had with your wife when she told you she was going to Cleveland went like this:      Your Wife: “I’m going to Cleveland.”      You: “Who’s in Cleveland?”      Your Wife: “Not you.”        RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene    

I had to go out of town, but I called our father from Anycity, USA to see how he was doing , and—sorry, but—I let it slip.        I told him that you told me that if you die before him you don’t want anyone to tell him, because you didn't want to break his heart.      “Tell your brother not to worry,” he told me. “He’s been dead to me since 1963.”       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.Blogspot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

So... how’d your knee surgery go?      You: “Doctor, why does my butt hurt?”      Your Doctor: “Don’t worry about it. That’s completely normal”    So... did you tell your wife that your knee surgeon told you to be sure to get plenty of sex to help with the pain?      Him: "Sex releases endorphins, which is a natural pain-killer."      Her: “Have a jalapeño pepper. It does the same thing.”    So... I don't know who told your best friend’s wife, but she posted on Facebook that your knee surgeon accidentally tied your torn meniscus to the wrong ligament, and now every time you bend your knee your penis gets pulled inside your scrotum.       Your best friend had a good laugh.      “Who’s that guy?” he asked the toaster.    So... I'm glad your plastic surgery and liposuction went well.      If it had been your previous doctor, y...

You know how the great female pop artist and ex-Disney star Britney Spears went into the hospital for a twisted ankle and came out with a boob job?  Are you sure you’re not going into the hospital for knee surgery and coming out with a penis implant?     Thinking about it, I was reminded of when I ran into your best friend Cali when he was taking his pet monkey for a walk in a Las Vegas casino.     “Remember how my brother's girlfriends in high school always used to call him by the nickname of ‘ Flaco ’?” I reminisced,  Flaco  being Spanish for skinny.     “They never called your brother ‘ Flaco ,’” he informed me.     “They didn’t?”     “No, Cali explained. “They called him ‘flaccid.’”       RaisingDad RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com. American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene