Everything comes apart when you turn 40!

How do you know you just turned 40? Nope, put your calendar away; it’s even easier than that. Feel that pain in your back you never felt before in a muscle you didn’t even know you had? Congratulations, you’re 40! More hair on your pillowcase than on your head? Toot toot! All aboard the Middle Age Train, 40-year-old!

You hit that magic number, and Boom! No more clipping your nails or brushing your teeth. It’s like some tiny switch in your 40-year-old genes gets flipped, and you can say good-bye to washing your clothes ever again, or cooking chicken before you eat it. Sure, it’s a drag—no one wants to wake up one day knowing he’ll never bathe again, and also realizing he sort of enjoys how his rancid body odor disgusts everybody in the bridal section at Macy’s.

But then again, no one really wants to turn 40 either!

What can you do? Nada. It’s biological destiny. Like it or not, ol’ Father Time will come calling, and you’ll quit your job, stop paying taxes, and start scamming the elderly out of their pensions. Now, maybe you’ve just turned 40 and you’re thinking, “I haven’t felt any stiffness in my joints or vandalized even one military cemetery!”

Well, give it a couple days, pal!

I don’t care who you are: when you hit the big Four-O, get ready to shit right where you stand rather than bothering to even look for a toilet.

Remember back when you were 20 and thought you’d stay that way forever? You’d never get wrinkles, grow a big ol’ belly, and flip over a baby stroller for the fun of it. You’d never shove someone in front of a subway, and definitely not in a pair of those weird, off-brand “mom jeans.” Then 40 snuck up on you, and guess what happened? You got crow’s-feet, picked up a hitchhiker and imprisoned him in your elaborate soundproofed torture chamber, and can’t remember where you put your gosh darn wallet half the time!

Welcome to the 40 Club!

But if there’s no getting around it—and there ain’t, pal—maybe it’s best to accept that your body just isn’t what it used to be and that your mind is going to order you to destroy everything and anything that is good and pure and beautiful. And if there’s any consolation to all the sagging and greying and punishing of humanity that’s beyond your control, it’s this:

At least you’re not 50!