"How was your golf game, dear?" asked my wife.

"Well, I was hitting pretty well, but my eyesight's gotten so bad I couldn't see where the ball went," I answered.

"But you're 75 years old!" admonished his wife, "Why don't you take my brother along?"

"But he's 85 and doesn't play golf anymore," I protested.

"But he's got perfect eyesight. He would watch the ball for you," she pointed out.

The next day I teed off with her brother looking on. I swung and the ball disappeared down the middle of the fairway.

"Do you see it?" I asked.

"Yup," he answered.

"Well, where is it?" I yelled, peering off into the distance.

"I forgot." he said.