History and Conventional Wisdom say I’m done

Photo 6 months old. I’m 67 years old. What’s your excuse?

Even when I was young, they used to kid me about being Dorian Gray. “How can you drink and think so much and still not be a physical wreck?” Here’s the thing. I do have a secret portrait I check on, which registers all my most venal and despicable sins. I look at it every damn day. How mortified do you think I am?

 
The painting’s only 101 years old.

Hurts, y’know.


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