Sunday Jan 7th, 1996 Vol.3, issue3 "Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." Just the other day, I saw some old git with a walker feebly attempting to cross the road. Obviously this poor lost soul was just another number of the geriatric migratory flock separated from it's gaggle. I mused vaguely about taking it home and feeding it, but then I remembered my mother telling me that if it's mother ever catches your scent on it, she might never take it back. So I just decided to sit there and laugh at it, and then suddenly everything seemed so simple; the intricacies of the universe revealed themselves to me, and I basked in its beauty: The Old Folks Kennel. Everything made perfect sense. Only for a moment. Had you asked me about it the next day, I never would have known what I was thinking. Hell, if you asked me a couple of seconds after this masterful brainstorm cascaded through my cranium the most insightful thing I could probably have said for sure is, "Huh?" If you think about it good and hard, I just might be onto something...might. There is always a dilemma for people who want to go on vacation, but can't take their old folk with them. You can't just leave them at home with a full bowl of water and a bag of Old Folk Chow™ (because they tear up the couch and usually end up drinking out of the toilet); the humane society and ONEFOOT in the GRAVE (otherwise known as Official Nonessential Elderly Federation Of Opiated Taletellers in the General Region Approaching Visceral Expiration) would be all over your ass. They'd take your old folk away from you, and you'd probably never see them again. You could ask a friend to stop by and check up on your old folk, but old folk require so much attention. All in all, Sea Monkeys are probably a better deal, but you pleaded and begged your parents, wrote to Santa, and even prayed for an old folk of your very own, and now that you have one, you have to take care of them. Its in just such circumstances that the Old Folks Kennel can help. The Old Folks Kennel provides clean cages with all the Gerber™ and water your old folk can get through a straw. During the day, your old folk can roam about in the Old Folks Kennel free range area, where they can run and frolic all day long with others of their own kind, until they need a diaper change. For a small additional charge, the conscientious staff at the Old Folks Kennel will grudgingly wash, shave, comb the hair, trim nails, and perform other hygienic tasks for your old folk as the need arises. Owners should beware of prolonged absences from their old folk. Because of the strong emotional bond formed by the imprinting of old folk with their owners, people may return from their trip to discover their old folk have lost much of their spunkiness. There are those elderly who drool as much as dog on a hot day, some bed ridden folk from whom you can expect to get as much entertainment value as you would derive from a mildly depressed guinea pig, and those people whose Alzheimer's reduce them to the level of human goldfish§. In nearly all cases, your old folk forget most house training and seem as capable of controlling their bowel movements as a dog who's just eaten a chocolate rabbit. For those of you out there who have become more and more frustrated with the state of your elderly, the Old Folks Kennel provides many other services: spaying, declawing, flea baths, removal of worms, and when the end comes for your old folk, euthanasia, and corpse disposal (flower urn optional). § Evolution has allowed the domestic goldfish to remain sane by granting them with one of nature's shortest attention spans. It just so happens that the domestic goldfish has the capacity to remember exactly one lap around the bowl. Thus for the goldfish, life is continually new and amazing. During each lap, a goldfish more or less thinks, "This is new! This is new! Wow, this is new!" Those poor goldfish whose attention spans allow them to realize they are merely swimming in circles simply close their gills and suffocate themselves to escape from the boredom of their existence. Thus the fittest survive.