I expect to be the victim of one of those interviews of really, really old people. You know, the kind where the oldest man in the community gets interviewed by a young interviewer trying to learn the secret of such longevity. By then I’ll look like Dustin Hoffman playing Jack Crabbe in Little Big Man.
But I am a long way from being that old and worry that cancer, or a heart attack, or a stroke, or dementia, or a car wreck, or scurvy may get me first. So, I’ve decided to do the interview now and do it myself. As Mark Twain once remarked, “If you want a job done right, do it yourself.”
Herewith is the interview.
Interviewer: Thanks for your time.
Me: You’re welcome. It’s all I’ve got left.
Interviewer: How old are you exactly?
Me: 105 years, seven months, and fourteen days — give or take.
Interviewer: Amazing. How can you remember so precisely?
Me: I’m 105 years old. What else do I have to do all day?
Interviewer: To what do you attribute your longevity?
Me: Sex and orange juice.
Interviewer : Sex? You seem awfully old to be having sex with anyone.
Me: Oh, I haven’t had sex in forty-five years.
Interviewer.: Well then, why do you say sex is one of the things that has kept you alive?
Me: I said sex and orange juice. You don’t mix them. As soon as I realized I wasn’t going to be having sex anymore, I started drinking orange juice.