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The Boomer IQ Test: 'Losing It' or Just 'Misplacing' It?

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Why do they bother putting an expiration date on sour cream?
In which direction does a Jewish dyslexic read?
When a ventriloquist performs oral sex, does he move his lips?

Our goal in this column is always to 'Connect the Generations' by offering Lessons for 30-Somethings from People Who've Been 30 Twice. Nevertheless, even Baby Boomers don't know everything.

My Internet Suggestion Box has included recommendations that
1) 'your brilliant column should be longer'.. .2) 'it's wonderful and should appear more often'... 3) 'you're stupid and I wish you'd shut up. '

Your kind words are much appreciated -- a big hug and thanks to those of you with such exquisite taste in literature -- but bloggers can be haters, too, like the ones who take this stuff seriously. It's for laughs, people, and clearly I've failed if you are dissecting syntax or political correctness. Either that or you're a humorless, nit-picking moron.

Here are some of the nice questions.

How do you handle criticism?

You can't hurt me because I've been married three times and once accidentally observed childbirth from a distance of 10 feet.

Mostly, I'm immune because of a late night talk show that went on the air -- and off -- 25 years ago; a show you obviously didn't like or we'd still be doing it.

Thicke of the Night was supposed to challenge Johnny Carson. They said it couldn't be done and I was the guy they chose to prove it. The show was ahead of its time... it should've been on in 2084, when all of us are dead.

Critics were divided -- some thought it stunk like a dead fish, others said 'Uncle Fester's gym socks.' One reviewer actually tried to pay a compliment and wrote that 'Alan Thicke has a nice, SELF-DEFECATING sense of humor.'

We had a sponsor whose commercials sounded like a joke but it was legit: Lightweight Feminine Napkins. In the middle of every program, the announcer would say, "Once you've tried new lightweight, you'll never go back to thick again.'

It was a cold year but I learned a good lesson:
When the chips are down, you can count your friends on one hand...
you can express your feelings for the others on one finger.
Remember: Life itself ends in cancellation.

Did you help (your son) Robin with his music career?

Hardly. His kind of talent skips a generation. I did teach him about royalties, however.... I wrote the Diff'rent Strokes and Facts of Life themes and when people ask how royalties work, I answer, 'Very nicely, thank you,' and explain that when someone from the cast gets get arrested for DUI or gun possession and Mario Lopez reports it on Extra, they play my song and I get 11 cents

I composed some music you hear whether you want to or not, like the theme for every refrigerator ever caressed that special way by Vanna White on the show that makes The Price is Right look like the Harvard Bar examination, Wheel of Fortune!

I don't mean to brag but I've written dozens of game show themes and Robin hasn't written one. He's in a rut, all he writes are hits. I have the artistic freedom to get up in the middle of the night with an epiphany for the Turtle Wax underscore on Jeopardy! and better yet, I know who to call to make that dream come true!

From the 'AfterLife' column: Do you believe in Heaven?

I want to believe in Heaven but who gets to go? It can't be just the Ten Commandments people because that would be Hell. I love Tim Tebow but I'll bet he has some friends who behave so well they'll die of boredom. There are some people you didn't want to bump into at the Class Reunion much less for Eternity.

Do we die the way we lived or is just a coincidence that Evelyn Woods went quickly... that Jean Dixon had a 'sense' she was going and that Orville Redenbacher suddenly went "pop!"?

I admit that I expect -- nay, demand -- tears when I go. I want people blubbering and wailing uncontrollably and throwing themselves on the floor.

And NO CREMATION for me, please! After all the years I spent lathering on sunblock spf 50, I deserve better than some Forest Lawn intern torching my carcass on his lunch break.

I want to be a nuisance to the end and -- in the ultimate environmental hypocrisy -- take up space in the ground forever, surrounded by a gigantic wooden casket. Yes, I'm taking a couple of trees with me. And on the way to my finite resting place, a procession of gas-guzzling SUV's. (I'm sorry Al Gore and I love Ed Begley but he can kiss my Aston-Martin at the final curtain.)

I want a Hummer Hearse and I hope it gets rear-ended and the back door flips open and my container rolls out in the middle of the Ventura Freeway in rush-hour, causing the biggest traffic jam LA has seen since OJ's Bronco. I want that Action News chopper overhead reporting that Alan Thicke is tying up traffic on the 405, creating such chaos and commotion that people have to drive around my sorry ass until everyone who's ever pissed me off is two hours late for something very important!

Meanwhile, thanks for listening! Sincerely, 'Boomer Boy Forever.'