Senior Citizens (“old,” in our country of the bland, has become nearly as dirty a word as “kike” or “nigger”) are eased into senility, retaught their childhood games but with a difference: it’s known as “passive recreation” now. Oh, by all means let them screw, if they can still cut the mustard; and, if they can’t, let them indulge without inhibitions in babylike erotic play. Let them get married, even—at eighty, at ninety, at a hundred—who cares? Anything to keep them busy and stop them wandering around blocking the traffic.
