Me, unPhotoshopped for once.

My wife and I are both of an age where we keep having to ask each other, “Did I tell you about…?” and it doesn’t matter because if we did we don’t remember whatever it was and get to do the first time all over again.

One of us read, but neither of us remember who, the thing about Alzheimer’s tracking you down from the past, eating up your memories progressively and hence your whole life and identity.

This short term stuff is a different beast entirely, to the point I’m convinced it needs its own acronym and a bevy of TV commercials about how to treat it with expensive prescription drugs featuring legions of fatal and near-fatal side effects.

It’s called SADD. Senior Attention Deficit Disorder. It’s not actually a neurological syndrome as it is with the kids who can’t pay attention in class. This is about the true manifestation of what kids with no excuse call boredom.

You people who aren’t our age just try to imagine our plight. We went to school and learned stuff when you still had to learn stuff. We can still recite verses we memorized in fifth grade. We can still do arithmetic and solve algebra word problems if we can make out the fine print. We remember important dates from throughout recorded human history. And we have learned how to operate the various social network thingies that glue idiot children to their cellphones even as they stride obliviously against the light on a crosswalk.

So why do we nod off in the middle of conversations and forget what happened yesterday and the day before? Because all you twenty–‘ thirty–, forty–, and fifty-somethings just bore us to the point of coma. Everything you know is not true, everything you opine about is over your heads, and every argument you attempt to make falls apart at the first touch from a wrinkled old finger like the ones at the end of our hands.

Have to tell you, SADD is very very widespread. Some photographic proof:

I think this guy was trying to watch Megyn Kelly’s latest blistering takedown of Donald Trump.

Some ancient Brit knickers infiltrator was talking up a movie made by a bunch of SADD sufferers…

…and the Voice of God sitting next to him was just tired to death of hearing it all again.

I think this was during the latest SOTU address. No wonder.

They tried to wake her up by asking if she was ready to retire yet. She said “FU” and resumed her nap.

May have been from the same event. Again, no wonder.

Thing is, it’s not what you’d call a new thing.

Possible that Winston Churchill was Patient Zero.

Meanwhile, here I am just missing the plane on my attempt to escape Zero Nation.

Would you believe it? Nobody woke me up.

Of course, some might say I’m the only one who has been awake through this whole comedy of errors.