Sunday, January 21st, 2007

It’s snowing. It’s thirty degrees.

There’s no wind. If you cannot stand outside your car for the six minutes it takes to gas it up, you are a pussy.

A memorial

Five years ago today, my cousin murdered my uncle. He used a gun- and no, I don’t hate guns because of it, the root cause of the murder was not the availability of weapons, but the combination of alcohol, drugs, and mental health issues.

My uncle, late in life, had come to look uncannily like my father. When he died, it was as if I was burying Dad all over again.

Below the fold is the eulogy I delivered and the photograph to which it refers.
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No, I won’t be watching the super bowl today.

What? it’s not the super bowl? then what the fuck is all the excitement about?

Christ, it’s a game. Wanna make me watch? Put a fucking sniper in the stands, and give him a pass on one spectator and one player each game. ThEN I’d watch the goddamned thing like a hawk. Trust me, there’s ALWAYS some fucktard in the stands that could use a well-placed bullet, and when it comes to players making millions of dollars to play a game, well, I don’t need to say any more.

I like hunting and fishing, and indy car racing. At least there’s usually death of some kind involved, and if something don’t die, it ain’t a sport.