Take this, for example:

There I am sitting in the living room, doing my crossword puzzle and having my pipe. Perfectly dignified. My youngest grandson Leland and his fat friend Luca (pictured) are playing a video game in front of me, slinging insults back and forth at each other and trying, for the life of them, to be as cold-hearted and hurtful as possible. Well, you can imagine my dismay when Leland accused his fat friend of wearing Depends adult diapers while at that very moment, but four feet away, I sat wearing that very brand of adult diaper. Leland was victorious. He put that fat friend right in his fat place. I think I even saw a fat little tear fall from his fat little eye. But it was a bittersweet victory at best.

Now, I'm not one to piss and moan, but surrendering to the adult diaper does not come easily. It takes a few public humiliations to inspire you, like having to thank Pastor Dickens for a lovely sermon with a diarrheal stool planted in your Hanes. That finally put me over the edge, but months of accidents preceded it, and the wife was none the wiser.

You know how it is - there you are in bed, assuming you just have a little gas, and the next thing you know there's a bulb of poo rocketing into your pants. You clean up, and think it was just a fluke, until it happens again, and then again in one goddamn night. Grandma is over there snoozing away peacefully while I lie in shame, firing bulb after bulb of explosive diarrhea into my pajama bottoms.

Don't get old. That's what I tell my friends. It's very easy to lose your sense of humor about otherwise hilarious topics, such as incontinence, erectile dysfunction and falling down. I remember when falling down was a damn laugh-riot. These days, falling down in any shape or form means hanging out on the floor with a shattered hip for three to five days, until either someone finds you or you dehydrate and die. How funny is that, for heaven's sake?