A group of Irish seniors met at the pub and were sitting around talking about all their ailments.
My arms have gotten so weak I can hardly lift this pint of beer," said Murphy.
"Yes, I know," said Sullivan. "My cataracts are so bad; I can't even see my beer."
"I couldn't even mark an "X" to sign my name, my hands are so crippled," volunteered O’Neill.
"What? Speak up! What? I can't hear you!” said Boyle.
"I can't turn my head because of the arthritis in my neck," said Reilly.
"My blood pressure pills make me so dizzy!" exclaimed O’Rourke.
"And half the time I forget where I am, and where I'm going." To which several nodded weakly in agreement.
"I guess that's the price we pay for getting older," winced old man Flynn, as he slowly shook his head. The others nodded in agreement.
"Well, count your blessings," Flanagan cheerfully said, "Thank God all of us can still drive."