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Failer

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What I lack in style, I make up for in vanity. Which explains why, if you encounter me, I may well be attired in some unreasonably priced article of clothing.
I visited a Target store last Sunday which is for me, unlike the rest of human civilization, an unlikely event. I walked around the men's clothing section and saw modestly priced pants and shirts which I could certainly use to supplement my wardrobe-- I nearly made a purchase. But the reason I don't like to buy clothes at a place like Target is because once I get them home and put them on, I'll look at myself and wonder, "Don't I have anything better than this to wear?"

Tomorrow Bob Uecker will be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Uecker once issued a "Play me or trade me" ultimatum to team management, which must have been a shock coming from one of the worst players to put on a Major League uniform. He also enjoys the notoriety of starring in one of the worst sitcoms ever to air on television. Congratulations! Failure is its own reward, I always say.

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Electric Circus

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I don't believe that I have ever seen a man make as many facial contortions during the course of a press conference as one accused Kobe Bean Bryant did yesterday. It was as if he smelled something awful, then suddenly tasted something sour, then pondered some incomprehensible mystery, then hummed a tune, then smelled something awful again and just couldn't get that sour taste out of his mouth.

Doo doo doodoo doodoo doo doo doo doo...
What's that? Could it be the Kobe Bryant trial media circus pulling into town?

Let's see how many Tv legal experts can fit into a Vw beetle!

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Sunken Treasure

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I have decided that I want a boat.
I went jogging yesterday and discovered, rather to my surprise, that I am not completely out of shape. I run the clay track that winds through Palmer Park, the total distance of which I can only guess at, but I figure it's about a mile, more or less. Whatever the distance, I completed it and felt pretty good and suddenly ambitious, so I kept running. The clay always feels a little softer after a rain, and I love the "track crunchcrunch" sound the rhythm of my steps makes. In spite of inhaling a mosquito along the way, I completed a second tour without interruption. Even my legs, which are usually aching after the first half mile, held up for the entire distance. But, when I turned off the track and onto the pavement, my legs took on the physical quality of a gelatin dessert, causing my steps to be unstable. "Whoa, steady." I urged them, "Raise the mast! Or some other such nautical expression. Mark Twain!"

It was at this moment that I found myself enchanted with the idea of sailing. Maybe the practice of it wouldn't really interest me at all, but the idea... The skill of the sailor, the grace of the sail as it catches the wind, the romanticism of the open sea or lake or any body of water not contained within concrete walls. A little quiet, a little blue, a little wind. A little sailboat just a little ways out from the harbor... It seems like a nice idea.