When I Get Older
For Lennon and McCartney, 64 was a nice age to rhyme with and probably seemed sufficiently ancient for their purposes at the time. As life expectancy increases for many developed nations, governments seek to adjust the retirement age so as to protect their inability to deliver on promised payouts. And the “boomers” get restless – We’re the “me generation,” remember? Dad retired when he hit the cut-off, and I’d sure like to do the same. Not that I’ve been such a very good boy in all this, so thank goodness I’m in a country with some real social services. (Expecting that to last is fantasy.) Capitalism isn’t very kind to the 75% of us without masses of money (not that communism turned out any better), so you need to be in the game. I used to groan when I’d get stuck in a queue behind some pensioner with twenty dollars and a grand, complex lottery scheme, but now I can see how a couple of scratchies might keep someone off cat food when all else has failed. Gambling is gambling, whether it’s lotto or stocks (or life insurance for that matter), the only differences being that stocks are a safer bet and a long term return (and you don’t get to keep the insurance). Isn’t that always the way? The safer the option, the longer you have to wait to win, but that’s because the house wants to keep your money, as much of it and for as long as they can.