Me, age 110, explaining the secret of my longevity

It’s so nice to have you reporterbots from Googlethought drilling into my consciousness for an interview. I remember when I was a flesh reporter and I had to do these stories by actually talking to old people. Human contact was so uncomfortable back then. This is much easier, and I don’t even have to get dressed or unhook myself from Seniorfeed. The secret of my longevity? Well, staying active, of course. Walking, stretching, fending off packs of feral dogs. I use a cane, you see, which helps with walking as well as whacking things. That’s good cardio. Oh, yes, I can still whack with the best of them. You know how the saying goes: Violence makes the heart go stronger.

And music. Music has always been an important part of my life, but it really came together when I joined a choir in my eighties. A bunch of us senior survivors, we called ourselves Choirmageddon, and we toured the shade farms singing “folk songs for seniors and contemporaries,” songs like “If I Had a Hammertoe,” “White is the Color of My True Love’s Hair,” “Goodnight Irene (But It’s Only 4 p.m.),” “Hey, Mr. Tetracycline Man,” “Blowin’ in the Toxic Atmosphere” and “Anarchy in the UK and Pretty Much Everywhere.” We built up a great community during difficult times, but, you know how it goes, somebody always has to ruin it by resorting to cannibalism.

Speaking of diet, I drink a lot of milk. That all started, well, you know, with President Trump’s famous milk speech back in 2018. Here’s the mind link in case you need it:

“We have all these cows working day after day after day, real beauties, doing their thing, huge, making milk like nobody’s business, and it’s good milk, let me tell you. The best. And they’re doing it with the udders and it’s going into the bottles and shipping it – boy, are they shipping it, believe me – and every single morning milk, boys and girls are having their good milk being brought to them by their nannies or valets, whoever, in their special milk goblets with the monograms, like everyone does, no matter what the lying media tells you. And all of this great milking is those cows up in the little town of Bethel, Maine, a real Santa’s workshop of milk, serving the whole country, and Santa Claus, by the way, is Canadian, and we’re going to be getting a much better deal from him, believe me. Toys every day, it’ll make your head spin.”

And after that, of course, the liberal media would have nothing to do with milk, and there were the boycotts and then the dairy purges, such intolerance, such terrible lactose intolerance. Naturally, all that surplus milk came up to Canada, the so-called “white market,” which effectively killed the milk subsidy up here. There was a lot of cheap milk around. It was bad for the farms but good for me, and that’s all that matters, right?

Oh, and the best part was that everyone started mooing at Trump after that, and he got so upset he invaded Wisconsin. That was finally when the GOP expressed “concern.”

Anyway, President Lindsay Lohan straightened everything out. Too bad the climate collapsed.

Staying on top of current events is also important.

I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I never smoked marijuana after it became legal, then illegal again, then legal and finally an alternative source of fuel.

I do crossword puzzles. Oh, I don’t solve them. I just make puzzle grids with random clues and leave them lying around for the other residents to “solve.”

It’s important to keep your sense of humour. Here’s a riddle: “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Google.” “Google who?” “Come on, we know you’re in there…” What else… Oh yes, I’m extremely wealthy. Definitely that’s the biggest key to longevity: not being poor. I tell you, it was close for a while, especially after the Tim Hortons House of Commons did away with Old Age Pension. But I caught onto the entrepreneurial spirit in the 2020s and developed an alternative form of sexual healing: holistic humping. Made a bundle. I’ve got enough money now for enhancements and replacement parts in perpetuity. Yup, definitely don’t be poor.

That’s about all I can think to you. Thanks for stopping by my brain, but if you’ll excuse me now, I have to reboot my pancreas.