A few years ago I started getting mail — like mail in the mailbox out in front of the house mail — from AARP.  I knew what it was from the envelope, so I didn’t open it. None of it. Let me say this up front: I’m not voluntarily checking into some old folks’ club just to save 15 cents on a burger. Screw that.

The persistent little fogies at AARP kept sending me stuff, though, and now they’re onto Mary Jo, too. Every week we get letters. Promises of a free gift for joining. (I think it’s a hearing aid or something.) Discounts just for AARP members. (Buffets galore!) A subscription to AARP The Magazine. (Where they advertise hearing aids, ED drugs and other magazines.)

All you have to do is pay your annual dues and they’ll send you a card confirming that you’re a cheap old bastard.

No thanks. Not buying. Now get off of my lawn and out of my mailbox.

I thought AARP was the worst, but a few weeks ago I got the above letter, from some geezer club called the Neptune Society. The “most trusted cremation expert in the United States.”

Back off, dammit. Just back the heck off.