"Smile, boys, that's the style."

I'm 39 today, for the 15th time.  Oh yeah.  39 is a rough age.  Rougher still when you realize that you are depending on Jack Benny humor to blunt Father Time's impact on your psyche.  Odd how I would put a sharper edge on my physique and a duller edge on the realization of passing time.  It's working in reverse of that.  Up until now, I've never really let aging affect me much.  For some reason, it seems to be bearing down on me in a new and powerful way this year. 

Better get that sorted out in a hurry.  In the words of the old song from The Great War:

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,

And smile, smile, smile,

While you've a Lucifer to light your fag,

Smile, boys, that's the style.

What's the use of worrying?

It never was worth while, so

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,

And smile, smile, smile.

Now, stand back, Mates, and just let me give Kaiser Bill wot for!