Barring extreme disability when you reach threescore years and two, full retirement from gainful occupation makes no more sense than watching the grass grow or investing in the lottery.

"Gainful occupation," for purposes of this opusette, means something to do that is rewarding to you or someone else, as opposed to being a fungus on society.

Since the earliest humanoids strapped on fig leaves, adult humanoids have fantasized about an existence wherein there is no obligation to do anything more than eat, sleep, attend to bodily functions and pursue hedonistic pastimes.

As the stuff of daydreams, it's hard to beat, especially for those who are burdened by the yoke of labor that is necessary for survival and/or fulfilling inescapable commitments.

Let's agree, though, that it's only "work" if you'd rather be doing something else, a truism that explains the behavior of those who seem unwilling or unable to "stop and smell the flowers."

Obtaining relief from "having to do" is a legitimate goal for just about any but the most dedicated of masochists, but having nothing to do is a fate worse than debt or overwork.

In "Man's Search For Meaning," Viktor Frankl identified purposelessness as one of mankind's most cruel scourges, a dreaded opposite of what the French describe as a "raison d'etre," a worthwhile reason to exist.

There is irrefutable evidence that those who retire - that is to say, withdraw - from meaningful activity hit the obits much sooner than those who find a "raison" in the sun, even as the twilight of life approaches.

All that is prefatory to discussing the modern American fairy story of Social Security.

In 1935, when the system was instituted, it was a statistical slam-dunk for Uncle Sam, since the payoff date was age 65, only the individual worker got to collect benefits, and average life expectancy was 63 years.

It was a good deal for some workers. The first one to retire, one day after SS's enactment, enjoyed a 340% return on his investment, having paid in but a nickel and receiving a check for 17 cents. (Would I kid you? Check out Ernest Ackerman in Google.)

On the other handout, one Ida May Fuller (also Googlable), retired in 1940, after paying in a smidge over 22 bucks during three years of employment beforehand. Before kicking off at age 100, she pocketed $22,888, almost exactly 1,000 times more than she had kicked in.

Still, the Social Security fund was then sound and solvent, although already under attack by America's elected reprehensibles.

In 1939, Congress extended benefits to surviving spouses and children, then in 1956 added disability payments, meanwhile raiding the fund and replacing solid equity with IOUs.

Effective in 1961, participants were given the option of retiring at 62, with reduced monthly payments, but the probability of collecting more benefits over an ever-expanding life expectancy

Future recipients now include Baby Boomers, who will swell the ranks of eligibles from today's 40 million to 71 million by 2030, with far fewer workers paying into the fund.

To make a long story longer and validate its realistic label as a Grim Fairy Tale, the present system will be unable to meet its future promises, unless taxes are raised and/or benefits reduced and/or the age of eligibility postponed.

(Please read that last paragraph again, because it is the gutbucket of this message!)

Don't count on either incumbent or wannabe office holders to touch any of those three remedies with a pole of any length, much less the customary ten feet.

These are political third rails with a politically destructive charge that would make the electric chair seem like a Whoopee Cushion.

Therefore, dear hearts - especially if you're in the vicinity of mid-life or newly qualified for AARP membership, DO NOT focus your financial sights or dreamy sighs on a life of subsidized leisure when you arrive at 62.

Unless you can "make marry" like John Kerry or rake in a haul in Power Ball, start stashing funds away right now to guarantee some glitter in those Golden Years to come.

The bad news is that Uncle Sam is totally incapable of making that happen, so figure on working on, if need be, beyond the statutory emancipation age of 62.

The good news is that if you retire TO a productive existence, rather than from one, you'll live much more happily ever after.

Well, maybe not "ever" after, but you get the idea.