(I offer this little ditty, in honor of Paul McCartney's 68th birthday on June 18 … sung to the tune of the Beatles' "When I'm Sixty-Four")
When I get older, losing my hair,
A few days from now,
Will elder care still be so clandestine,
My brain feeling like it's pickled in brine?
If I'm outside till quarter to 3,
MPTF security locks the door!
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm ninety-four?
Oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oooo
You'll be older too (ah ah ah ah ah)
Oh, Katzenberg, if I can be heard,
I would say "f— you."
Seems that I bought right into your ruse.
Where has the LTC gone?
We would congregate in the pavilion with pride.
Now the MPTF has taken us for a ride.
In a few days we'll be pushing up weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm ninety-four?
Every year I donated to get a cottage
On Spielberg Drive — now I live in fear.
We had to scrimp and save,
Now they are trying to evict me –
Jeffrey, Steve, and Dave.
Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely when I'm s'posed to leave,
Yours sincerely, "Recently Bereaved."
Give me your answer, fill in a form,
"You're out for evermore!"
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm ninety-four?
Whoo!
