I'll preface this by saying that it's pretty much in jest...pretty much.
We, (often referred to by the masses as "they"), hear the ROAR (and pretend to ignore), “To the pasture”, “To the pasture”, “To the pasture”, they say. Not everyone, certainly, but those with the most loud, collective voice. With impatient disbelief at our gall for ignoring their request, we’re met with a cacophony of voices, opinions, and demands.
I check myself over, to see if there’s something I’ve missed. I’m looking for a “Best if used by….” stamp, or sticker, but I can’t find one, anywhere. I guess there’s always the chance it’s worn off by now. Maybe we'll be offered a free “re-stamping”...perhaps a tattoo, in the color of our choice. This could be our tangible reminder, lest we forget, that we’re past our prime.
The voices hope that we, the ubiquitous they, will acquiesce, and join the lovely creatures pictured above. Ummm..don't count on it...not ready for that pasture...not by a long shot.
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