No, I guess I only have the stamina I had at 25 years old. I can barely run a 6-minute-mile anymore without sweating and panting. As for parachute jumping, well, that was well behind me even at 25. No longer can I hump an M-60 machine gun and 250 rounds and four grenades and a .45 with 3 magazines of ammo and some claymore mines and TNT up and down mountains, for a) I don't have any of the foregoing and b) I don't want any and c) running around with all that crap would get me arrested toot sweet. I cannot stay up all night boozing and playing Crazy Eights until Dawn gives me the rosy finger anymore.

Alas, for lost youth!!!

Now I even drink whiskey from a glass instead of the bottle! Alack! I shall sit on the porch of the Old Farts' Home, gumming my gum as I rock in the ol' rocking chair, occasionally making a lewd comments at the passing young ladies until those nice folks in white uniforms take me back inside for beddy-byes.

No more shall I rappel down cliffs using clothesline and no harness! No more will I allow firecrackers to explode in my fingers! No more will I throw a hatchet at a tree and have it bounce back! No more 100 proof vodka drank from the bottle while driving 100+ miles per hour! No more stolen, unprotected, kisses in the backseat of a 1932 Pontiac! No more for me the dangers of getting VD from toilet seats and doorknobs!

Alas and alack!!