Eskewpades

A philandering philanthropist? Uh, never! My friend Fleeko, a retired horse jockey, recently turned 65. His only comment?––“Whoop-de-doo! ”A feisty, free-spirited sexagenarian fur sure, he struts through the world like a banty rooster. I, of course, am far too pure to   endorse his somewhat sophomoric antics. But talk about getting into life! Each day, Fleeko viciously fights boredom to the hilt. His bigliest fan? His wife Flameekwah. She testifies that “he makes life happen happily, and has a heart even more golden than the world’s most estimable prostitute––well, damn near.” Living a lifestyle of perpetual self-reinvention, Fleeko often floats a favorite phrase: “I feel like I’m 33. Life begins at 40. I can’t wait.”   Fleeko spends money with gusto but it’s not his main motivator. His Achilles’ heel? Fleeko’s addicted to fun. Risky fun––like skydiving while tipsy and boxing much younger men in his weight class.   Sometimes slightly illegal fun––like hosting