It has something to do with the turbulent and undulating spectacle of it all. Evidently, at a certain age, the bones and teeth assume the chemical composition of gummi bears. Plus old folks are much more suspicious than we normal people, and tend to chew each bite in the three digits, searching for shards of glass or contaminated syringes or human fingers, signs of what this world has come to. And if this laborious process forces some of the contents out into said world, well, old people get a pass on that. I believe I already told you about the elderly relative who, we noticed, had a whole scallop on her bosom. If it had been a young person, it would have been entirely appropriate to think "pervert", or at the least, "punkish art rebel". But seniors slide by with a chuckle and an affectionate shake of the head.
Who am I to poke fun at our oldsters? After all, if old age were Disney World, I'd be cruising through southern Georgia right now, maybe Macon. Fear, I guess. Fear of confronting the bitter cruel irony of life. How could you not believe that God, should He exist, is a sadistic bastard?