Me at 90. Which is just 20 or so years away.
Ain't that some shit.
Well by then I could be a bag of dried pet food.
That or some holy guy somewhere. I always had the calling.
If things work out I'd be happy running some sort of mish mash hippie Buddha commie store front in urban hell somewhere.
Yeah I'd have a few cats, but the robot sort.
They don't shed or shit all over the place.
That, and you can put them in a box, and shove them into a closet when you get fed up with them.
This so one can get on with all the holy guy jazz.
It's a plan.
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