Another guy wants to call in a Rabbi to do a quick bris on me, because in an article I mistakenly added a year to his age. I mean, he’s in his seventies, so what does a year or two matter? Will family and friends treat him with less respect? Or dent his sexual ego?
Let’s face it, in our thirties we worry about what the world thinks of us. In our fifties we realise that nobody actually gives a damn. Seventies? We’re off the map, ou swaer.
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