I would dutifully (if trepidatiously) hop onto the scales for my weight assessment, but I was allowed to fudge on my Body Mass Index by self-identifying my height. Granted, you have to stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, but you look your own mortality in the face. X’s Grok chatbot reassured me that my height is average (or just a skosh above average) for males my age. Nah, your parents walked five miles to and from the MALT SHOP in waist-deep snow, uphill both ways.”There was vindication! Danny Tyree’s column is distributed by Cagle Cartoons Syndicate.