Thoughts from thirteen years ago (but still relevant) on aging and retirement.
I don’t feel old, and I’m not ready either financially or psychologically to retire. There is still a lot to accomplish in space, and things are just starting to get interesting, with possibilities for things I’ve been working to make happen for over four decades. And I’m still hoping for rejuvenation.
The Deacon’s Masterpiece?
“And I’m still hoping for rejuvenation.”
Well other than Harold Katcher’s work the next best hope for us north of say 55 years old for “rejuvenation” in our remaining life expectancy would be Greg Fahy’s work:
Dr. Greg Fahy gives an update on the TRIIM-X clinical trial at EARD 2022.
The TRIIM-X clinical trial aims to understand how to create a personalized thymus regeneration regimen. By regenerating the thymus, the researchers hope to be able to prevent or reverse certain aspects of immune system aging.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wqb9c5MRUAs&t=513s
Anything to keep me alive until epigenetic re programing is perfected.
I like Greg, but I think that David Sinclair also has some interesting options.
I predict Artemis will be combined with the Chinese lunar program in the style of ASTP and ISS. Much money and time will spent, little will be done and we will still be grumbling about it on the Internet when the next century begins.
I ‘m in pretty good shape at 72, but for a hereditary disorder that can be treated, but not cured. Prior to the development of said treatments, my ancestors died in their 40s and 50s. Now, it’s 80s and 90s (discounting the alcoholics, who usually don’t make it). I keep hoping for a cure for the Disorder, but because it’s treatable, the research budget is low.
Stay with us, brother-man.
My Dad had the same syndrome and was a hundred pounds overweight when he developed cancer and died horribly at 87. I’m about 70 pounds lighter, so still a bit pudgy. He could have stopped his meds and wasted away in two or three months but chose to fight to the end.
Birth ensures death.
The journey, not the destination.
This could all be a simulation or actual reality. How can you tell?
There’s another party at 7pm. Be there.
A simulation of what, pray tell? In one of my stories, it turns out to be a story, created by a dramaturge in an what is theorized to be an actual reality. One of the characters does wonder, What if it’s simulations all the way down? And then wonders what the fuck *that* means…?
The Edge spellchecker doesn’t like the word fuck and suggests I replace it with a winking emoji.
KIRK: Then we can leave any time we want to. Tracey is of the opinion these immunising agents can become a fountain of youth. There are people here over a thousand years old, Bones.
MCCOY: Survival of the fittest, because their ancestors who survived had to have a superior resistance. Then they built up these powerful protective antibodies in the blood during the wars. Now, if you want to destroy a civilisation or a whole world, your descendants might develop a longer life, but I hardly think it’s worth it.
KIRK: Then anything you develop here as a result of all this is useless.
MCCOY: Who knows? It might eventually cure the common cold, but lengthen lives? Poppycock. I can do more for you if you just eat right and exercise regularly.
You’ll live longer by fasting rigorously. But why bother? I think I’ll have hot dogs for lunch, with mustard, onions, and dill relish. I doubt I’ll regret that on my death bed. Being me, I’m sure I’ll be sorry I didn’t eat more of something else…