For more than a decade I have been
receiving direct mail come-ons from AARP. Right into the garbage bag
they have gone along with invitations to transfer my credit card
balances, catalogs from retailers I have never patronized, and
requests from any number of worthy organizations who would like to
send a truck to my house to pick up my household items. (Alas, they
never want to pick up the truly unwanted items such as dust bunnies,
water-stained ceiling tile, or the musty old suitcases in the storage
closet. They only want things like my food processor or my
second-best reading lamp.)
The other day, however, I received an
actual, shiny, red-white-and-blue AARP membership card, albeit
temporary, which is still lying on my desk, tempting me. If I reply
within a month and send them sixteen bucks I will be able to take
advantage of their many, but vaguely described, benefits including
“Representation in Washington and all 50 states.” Sorry, AARP, I
don't find that compelling as I really feel I have enough
lollygagging, thick-headed, pork-barreling representation in those
quarters already.
There is something that tempts me, though. If I
register NOW I will GET A BONUS GIFT. “As a 'thank you' for
joining, we'll send you a FREE added
bonus—this handy Dashboard Buddy.” A Dashboard Buddy! Who could
resist? Doesn't everyone need a Dashboard Buddy? Yes! Yes! It's
free. I want it. I need it. Wait! Wait! What the heck IS a
“Dashboard Buddy?” (AARP Health Advisory: Excess emphasis
and unnecessary “punctuation”
IS catching, and there is, as yet, no preventative vaccine.)
It is hard to tell
about the DB, because the far from luscious photo isn't very crisp
and it's in Black and White because, of course, all Golden Agers are
“nostalgic” for the days Black and White. Days when you didn't
need to worry if you were the four billionth person to view Gangnam
Style instead of the first, and you only watched it because you
thought it was someone dancing “The Pony” which you danced when
you were thirteen or fourteen and wishing you had white go-go boots
and lived next door to Fabian. The days before you needed a handy
Dashboard Buddy which appears to be a cosmetic bag missing half of
its front panel which is handy for keeping needed items at hand and
handily in view on your dashboard. Items like lozenges, or are those
coins? A garage door opener, or is that one of those one-function
phones with really big numbers on it? Why, the DB looks big enough
for stashing a bottle of fiber pills or a slim-profile geriatric
diaper. To give AARP credit, they must think I am young enough to
own a dashboard, which I assumed was a car dashboard, but maybe
“Buddy”is for the dashboard of the electric scooter with a basket
thing you ride around on in the grocery store.
Dearest AARP,
thank you for thinking of me and my needs for representation and
handiness, but I am getting into my de-accessioning years, and unless
I can opt out of this amazing free gift, I don't think I can join
right now. Maybe later I will crave something drool-proof, an item
of durable, easy to clean denier nylon construction which I can use
on my seat or the floor of the trunk into which my family has tucked
me. I do not deny that I am well into your target demographic. I am
over the dreaded hill. I have entered, if not quite embraced, my
geezerhood. I have installed klieg-level lightbulbs in my reading
lamp. There are plenty of days in which I feel older than dirt, and
every day I hear, if not the mermaids, then the one or two lines of
poetry I can remember:
I
will wear my trousers rolled, of course, because my dwindling butt
has made all of my trousers droop and drag along the floor,
threatening to trip me up unless I wear a pair of nice thick-soled
comfort shoes. And, wearing my rolled trousers, I will blog for
you.
No comments:
Post a Comment