"Well, I was hitting pretty well, but my eyesight's gotten so bad I couldn't see where the ball went."
"But you're seventy-five years old, Jack!" admonished his wife, "Why don't you take my brother Scott along?"
"But he's eighty-five and doesn't even play golf anymore," protested Jack.
"But he's got perfect eyesight. He could watch your ball," Tracy pointed out.
The next day Jack teed off with Scott looking on.
Jack swung, and the ball disappeared down the middle of the fairway. "Do you see it?" asked Jack.
"Yup," Scott answered.
"Well, where is it?" yelled Jack, peering off into the distance.
"I forgot."
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