John Smith wrote on Mar 31
st, 2023 at 4:17pm:
UnSubRocky wrote on Mar 19
th, 2023 at 2:59pm:
The Geography of a Woman
Between 18 and 22, a woman is like Africa . Half discovered, half wild, fertile and naturally Beautiful!
Between 23 and 30, a woman is like Europe . Well developed and open to trade, especially for someone of real value.
Between 31 and 35, a woman is like Spain , very hot, relaxed and convinced of her own beauty.
Between 36 and 40, a woman is like Greece , gently aging but still a warm and desirable place to visit.
Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Great Britain , with a glorious and all conquering past.
Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Israel , has been through war, doesn't make the same mistakes twice, takes care of business.
Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Canada , self-preserving, but open to meeting new people.
After 70, she becomes Tibet . Wildly beautiful, with a mysterious past and the wisdom of the ages. An adventurous spirit and a thirst for spiritual knowledge.
THE GEOGRAPHY OF A MAN
Between 1 and 80, a man is like Russia and North Korea, ruled by a pair of nuts.
THE END.
My parents had a similar banner to that hanging on the kitchen wall when i was growing up
it went like-
From 20 to 30 if a man lives right, it's once in the morning and twice at night
From 30 to 40 if he still lives right, he misses a morning and sometimes a night
From 40 to 50 it's just now and then
From 60 to 70 it's heaven knows when
from 70 - 80 he's slightly declined, but don't let him fool you, it's still on his mind
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.
And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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