OFFER ME ICECREAM!

Once you hit a certain age, and when you have gotten the attention of the medical folks, it's probably inevitable that your name and some personal data end up in the hands of companies looking for subjects or victims. On the one hand, that explains telephone calls from cities where I don't know a blessed soul -- I ignore those, because I always answer the same way when I pick up ("I do not need that thank you hanging up now bye") -- on the other hand, it also explains a letter wishing to enroll me in a cognitive impairment study.
It's a very nice letter. And there are inducements.
Freebies, giftgcards, swag.
Goodies!

Let me paraphrase it for you.


Dear Bonzo,

How's the old noggin' then? Are you gaga? Is your mind going? Or do you think it is? Have your friends told you that, or are they hiding the truth?
Are there times when you wonder about your slim grasp on sanity and sentience, and where you left your car keys? Do people avoid your calls?
We're doing a clinical study (which is actually market research) on folks who are elderly, foolish, and missing their marbles.

Scan this app to see if you are eligible!

Thanks!


Oh boy! I'm awfully tempted. I could have a lot of fun with this. Except I've never scanned an app in my life, and I'll probably lose the electric monitoring device they propose to send me.
As well as the instructions in clear simple English, the spare batteries, and the letter.
Please send me another. Does it also work on cats?


Thank you so much for thinking of me. I'm midly peeved about that.




Um, what was I on about? Oh yes, the important thing was that I had an onion tied to my belt, which was the style at the time They didn't have any any white onions, because of the war.
The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones. Now, to take the ferry to Morganville, which is what Shelbyville was called back then, cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Gimme five bees for a quarter," you'd say.





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