There are seven ages of man:

Sixteen to twenty-five... twice daily.

Twenty-five to thirty-five... thrice weekly.

Thirty-five to forty-five... try weekly.

Forty-five to fifty-five... try weakly.

Fifty-five to sixty-five... try oysters.

Sixty-five to seventy-five... try anything.

Seventy-five and beyond... try to remember.


And just like the man, there are seven ages of woman:

Sixteen to twenty-five, like Africa: partly virgin, partly explored.

Twenty-five to thirty-five, like India: hot and mysterious.

Thirty-five to forty-five, like Europe: devastated but interesting in parts.

Forty-five to fifty-five, like America: efficient but unconscious.

Fifty-five to sixty-five, like Russia: everybody knows where it is but nobody really wants to go there.

Sixty-five to seventy-five, like the UN: it functions, but nobody is interested.

Seventy-five and beyond, like Atlantis: lost and forgotten.

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